


Immunity: Part II

by Epic Solemnity (Dark_Cyan_Star)



Series: Immunity [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Airbending & Airbenders, Breathplay, Bromance, Daemons, Discrimination, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Earthbending & Earthbenders, Elemental Magic, Firebending & Firebenders, Gender Discrimination, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, M/M, Magic-Users, Manipulation, Military Academy, Nobility, Politics, Post-War, Royalty, Segregation, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Social Issues, Supernatural Elements, Swords & Sorcery, Waterbending & Waterbenders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-07-06 03:07:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 205,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15877224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Cyan_Star/pseuds/Epic%20Solemnity
Summary: PART TWO:SLASH: With suspicions fueled, and resentment blunting perceptions, Micah determinedly seeks to unearth the secrecy surrounding his Uncle Josiah. Uncovering the man’s true nature eventually leads Micah to a truth that violently shakes the foundations of his beliefs and requires a recognition he is not prepared to accept. For when he lifts the veil shrouding Josiah, he’s faced with more questions, more uncertainties of his own existence.Powerful enemies arrive with efforts to destroy Micah before he gains awareness of his own power. In order to surmount, he must learn to trust this new Josiah and open his eyes to a world he desperately wished to ignore. Once the blindfold falls entirely, Micah questions whether he truly wants the cursed destiny that fate has bestowed upon him.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> What do we have in store for Part 2? Part 2 is all about revelations. We will have some Calder, but not to the extent as many would appreciate. He is going to observe Ezra from a distance before deciding how to best proceed. This arc is strictly a **“Josiah and Ezra" arc.**
> 
> **DISCLAIMER:** Because this is original work, I ask that you not take any parts of this story and post it elsewhere without my explicit permission. Thank you ♥ 
> 
> Enjoy.

**1\. Chapter One**

“Where is he, Sachiel?”

Sachiel concealed a smile as he landed on one knee before the king.

He also nodded respectfully to Lord Josiah, who stood lazily behind his assigned throne. For as many times as Sachiel occupied the throne room, he had yet to see Josiah sit obediently on his throne. Granted his position was a distance behind and to the side of Calder’s prominent seat, parallel to the vacant prince’s throne, but it was still a position of prestige. There were typically three monarchs with varying degrees of power. Because Queen Ember was no longer in the picture, Lord Josiah, acting as the Igni representative, would occupy the third position until Prince Ezra married and continued on the monarch line from both families.

Now that Calder suspended Lord Josiah from his duties at Concordia Academy, and repositioned the man where he could watch him closely, it was likely Sachiel may actually witness Josiah take a more active role in the political court.

It was a fascinating thought.

The man had a silver tongue. It was utterly delightful to watch him insult others, sometimes to the obliviousness of the intended victim. He imagined Ezra would be the same way. Perhaps the young man would not be as lethal with subtlety as his uncle, but rather, he would possess a bluntness. Experience and age would eventually sharpen and refine such bluntness into something extraordinary.

“Sachiel,” Calder called again, not hiding his impatience. “Where is my son? Let me remind you, for the past several weeks, you’ve continuously fed me incorrect information.”

Around the room, the royal guards took position against the far walls. Just to the side, there was an informal court of advisors and councilmembers gathered. He noticed Kai’s father—Seaton Edlen— amongst the group, displeasure evident on his features.

Sachiel would not say Ezra _ran_ from the capital, yet there was no conceivable word to make it sound less cowardly. He also took Kai Edlen with him—or more appropriately—Kai forcefully invited himself along for the trip.

“He probably recognized his last bit of freedom and took full advantage,” Sachiel murmured quietly to his knee.

“I beg your pardon?”

It was no longer a secret that the lost royal heir was roaming the capital. News travelled quickly and the public speculated wildly. Calder refused to publically confirm or deny rumors, which was understandable considering Ezra’s insistence to remain invisible. The high nobility, however, knew exactly _who_ the prince was.

Weeks ago, during the capital’s anniversary, Calder had discovered Ezra during the prisoner’s duel. He had then summoned Sachiel. After all, the boy’s duel was astonishing and elements of Sachiel’s style reflected throughout the prince’s form. Sachiel did not hide anything from his king and answered all questions as truthfully as possible while keeping some things private for Ezra’s sake.

In turn, Calder had hurried to do damage control.

After repositioning Josiah in the palace, he gave off a united _front_ with the man over the subject of his son. When he made a formal statement to the public, he would feign that he’d known from the beginning that Ezra was relocated as a child for his own safety. That he and Lord Josiah planned to wait until he was of age to reintroduce him to the court.

Obviously, not many nobles believed the story, knew it to be false, but it was expectant of Calder to smooth things over with the public. After all, he didn’t want to appear fooled by Josiah. He didn’t want others questioning his leadership if he could not even look after his son, who happened to be under his nose for over half a year.

It gave Calder control. It reestablished his footing by forcing Lord Josiah to unite with him.  

“Boys will be boys, Your Majesty,” Sachiel rephrased with a clear, ringing tone. He looked up and appraised Calder’s uninspired expression. “I imagine they will return right before term begins next week. Oh, which reminds me…”

Trailing off, he dug into his inner cloak pocket and withdrew an onyx feather.

It would make a very impressive quill.

“Mr. Edlen wrote to me last week. This is a feather from—”

“The Terra Kingdom,” Calder interrupted, hardly impressed. “Which you mentioned before as their last known location. Oddly enough, after sending a few men to the Terra Kingdom, it was revealed they hadn’t received outside visitors for quite some time.”

Sachiel gazed at the feather, feeling his lips twitch.

“Don’t you find that odd, Sachiel?”

Replacing the feather back into his cloak pocket, Sachiel inclined his head. “It is very odd the Terra Kingdom swallowed their animosity over our last visitation, yes. I had believed Delegator Barth banned us from ever encroaching on their lands again.”

“He does not possess such authority when half their kingdom remains a sanctuary region,” Calder responded stiffly. “So, when it comes to Ezra’s location, either you’re playing me, or they are playing you.”

“I imagine it’s the latter, Your Majesty.”

“You _imagine_?”

“It pains me to admit their deceit,” he replied forlornly. “It was a nice feather.”

Truthfully, Sachiel was having a rather entertaining time with the whole situation. For the past six weeks, the academy halls were quiet. The break between terms was nearly two months and most—almost _every—_ student returned home.

Ezra and Kai left the capital immediately after finals. As far as Sachiel was aware, Kai only kept in contact with _him_ about their whereabouts—rather— theoretical whereabouts _._ It pleased Sachiel immensely, simply because he had both Calder and Seaton constantly summoning him to the palace for updates.

He was delighted to respond with incredibly vague answers.

“Do you know where he currently is?” Calder’s question was not directed at Sachiel, but rather Josiah.

The Igni lord gazed indifferently at Calder _,_ an answer in itself. Considering Josiah knew of the prince’s location before all others, it would be no surprise if the man knew where the boy was now.

Lord Josiah would never share such information, however, especially to Calder.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” Sachiel intervened smoothly. “But it is possible that Ezra feels powerless in this situation. In order to establish footing, he is setting the terms for your first meeting. I imagine, considering his upbringing, he will always be rather defiant.”

“You find this far too amusing for your own good, Sachiel,” Calder drawled.

“Is it that obvious?” Sachiel inquired, scandalized. “They are young men—”

“They are young men with _responsibilities,_ ” Seaton Edlen interrupted fiercely. “Especially the royal prince. Running off is a rather childish and irresponsible thing to do. Not every noble has the same frivolous luxuries as you, Sachiel. They have a duty to uphold.”

Upon the sly insult, Sachiel exhaled levelly and stood from his kneeling position.

He faced Seaton and his brother, Muriel Edlen.

“Both _men_ are legally bound to the military,” Sachiel informed them coolly. “Nowhere does it state the students need to report back to their _daddies_ between terms. What they do during their free time is entirely up to them.” He turned back around and lowered his head to both Josiah and Calder. At his side, his hand curled around the pommel of his sheathed sword. Old habits die hard, he supposed. “I’ve trained Ezra long enough to know he will approach you when _he_ is ready, Your Majesty, and not a second sooner.”

Calder was relatively infamous for his blasé indifference.

Subjects, even controversial ones, hardly got him to stir.  

However, upon seeing Calder’s hard stare, Sachiel realized his misstep. He’d given far too much of his opinion, especially in front of members of the court. He suggested the king wait on someone and relinquish control over a situation. Even when that ‘someone’ was his son, it was an inappropriate suggestion for the King of Concordia.

Calder smiled coldly. “You know my son better than I, Sachiel,” he admitted softly with a lethal undertone. “However, he is _my_ son. As soon as their boots hit military grounds, I want you to bring them to me immediately. Not a second later. Do you understand me?”

The gloating from the spectators was palpable.

Sachiel could taste their delight on the tip of his tongue. With an iron fist, Calder swiftly regained control and authority. It was necessary, Sachiel supposed, for appearances sake. Nevertheless, he foresaw such dominant plays reoccurring with Ezra as the target. The boy was far too headstrong for subtle court.

In many ways, Ezra was very much like Calder. As soon as the young man detected the reigns, he’d buck stubbornly. If Calder did not recognize this in time, both father and son would butt heads assuredly. Sachiel both anticipated and dreaded the thought.

Glancing at Lord Josiah, he paused over the brightly amused eyes.

The man knew Ezra just as well—if not better—than Sachiel. Josiah was most likely foreseeing the same situation and anticipating it greatly. If there was one way to make an enemy out of Ezra, it was to attempt to establish control and dominance over the boy. Ezra would make many adversaries in court, surely.

_How very exciting_.

Sachiel bowed low at the waist. “Understood, Your Majesty.”

“You are dismissed, Councilman Sachiel.”

If there was one thing Sachiel knew how to do well, it was a proper exit. Feeling the bruise to his ego, there was only one remedy to nurse it back to full health.

Attack someone else’s pride.

Turning, he sought Muriel Edlen in the leering crowd of politicians. Inside, he preened. “I understand your son did well on his finals, Muriel.” Sachiel walked toward the exit at a flaunting pace. “Nereus ranked twentieth overall in a class of forty. Impressively average. Give my salutations to that renowned, private tutor you hired last year.”

Amongst the chuckles of the other politicians, Muriel looked positively toxic. “Very kind of you, Sachiel,” the man responded spitefully.

“Heard your stallion was ranked first, Sachiel!” Ervin called out. “Congratulations!”

He always did admire Ervin.

The man had a particularly sinful smile.

“Yes.” He triumphed. “Micah Egan—our recently revealed royal prince— not only ranked as the top cadet during trials, but was also the top of his class for the term.” Sachiel opened the door and smiled at his associates. “I expect all your payments by the end of the week. Preferably gold, though I’d accept a lavish bottle of malt.”

Catching a few grins, and relishing in his success, Sachiel exited the throne room with his confidence high and his pride redeemed.

 

*** * * ***

 

Micah followed the shopkeeper down a set of rickety stairs.

As they descended, the stairs creaked noisily and the temperature dropped several degrees. The tangy, scalding air above no longer served as an oppressor, but rather a distant, unfriendly memory. As the sweat across Micah’s forehead cooled, he slowly unraveled the shemagh from around his face.

The man glanced back at him, leering, before turning back forward.

Micah watched the storekeeper closely, grateful for the sword strapped to his back. There was something unnerving about the man, though he supposed it shouldn’t have surprised him. After all, the store he currently occupied sold and bartered dark artifacts.

“We have several,” the man repeated for the third time, almost as if he thought Micah were thick and not capable of retaining information. “Not many people are keen on the subject in this day in age. Their focus is mostly on technology and the mass improvements to civilization.”   

“Which is just as equally fascinating,” Micah replied distantly. “People have brilliant minds to create such inventions to improve our society.”

The man grunted, unenthusiastic. “I foresee things changing _because_ of technology. And the change is not for the better, I assure you. There will be dying arts. Arts that should thrive and govern society.”

Micah quirked a brow. “Do you often _foresee_ things?”

Either the man did not notice Micah’s cynicism, or he decided to overlook it. He merely shrugged his heavy-set shoulders and led Micah through the lower level of his store. He reached for the gas-burning lantern and shed light across the array of items. It was a junk pile, really. Micah gazed across the artifacts, noticing the dust and the thick spider webs in unused corners.

His boots slid across the cobbled stone floor and toward the bookcase, intent to look at the array of available tomes.

Only, a hand curled around his elbow.

“No, not there.”

Micah stared deliberately at the hand around his elbow before gazing apathetically up at the shopkeeper. The man smiled awkwardly, quickly removing his hand and approaching the opposite end of the room, away from the bookcase.

“I keep them separate.”

“They can’t be that indecent,” Micah commented, catching sight of some rather questionable artifacts in the room. “Considering our surroundings are full of prohibited items, I would have assumed they’d be on display like everything else.”

“Anything that deals with Noir Magic is very incriminating to possess,” the man argued sensibly. “I especially don’t want it falling into ignorant hands. I screen everyone who requests such material.”

“Rather noble of you…” Micah trailed off dryly. “I must have passed your decree.”

The Igni shopkeeper stopped and looked at Micah from over his shoulder. There was a rather crude leer in his eyes. “You passed.”

If books on Noir Magic were in abundance, Micah would have left several minutes ago. The reality of it, however, was that he needed this man to obtain what he wanted. He’d traveled from region to region, village to village, looking for this. After several weeks of failed attempts and dead ends, he finally found a willing vendor. _Finally_.

He hadn’t realized how difficult it would be. He was an ignorant fool before he left the academy, thinking he could get his hands on books like these. Halfway through his venture, he’d concluded he might never get the books he needed to discover Josiah’s secrets. Fortunately, he’d decided to stop one last place before giving up.

The shopkeeper moved around a cabinet and crouched down to retrieve something from the storage area. As he straightened, he slammed a stack of leather-bound tomes on the counter, causing a cloud of dust to implode. Eagerly, Micah reached for the books, his fingers sliding alongside cool leather.

Hissing in pleasure, he looked up at the shopkeeper. “May I?”

He motioned to the leather strap keeping the three books together. The man barely nodded before Micah unstrapped the belt and spread all three books out to examine them. They were beautiful. His hands nearly trembled as he flipped through the smallest book, eyes glazing over at the information, the diagrams, and the sketches. All in a language he could read.

This was it.

Oh, _Agni_ this was it.

Micah flipped through the other two, seeing similar material as the first. All on runes. All on daemons. All _readable._ Schooling his features, he calmly gathered the books back together. After securing the leather band back in place, he looked up at the man with unimpressed eyes. “These will do, I suppose. They aren’t entirely what I had expected,” he added casually. “How much do you charge?”

The creaking and groaning stairs was his first indication that something was amiss. Turning to glance over his shoulder, Micah observed the two men gradually making their way down into the underground.

They were rough looking and aggressive. Micah identified one of them as the man who had dawdled above in the shop. He hadn’t given the man any attention, simply because he’d focused exclusively on the storeowner. Evidently, it appeared as if Micah should have paid more attention, for the man brought a friend.

“These books require a different sort of payment,” the storekeeper informed, taking the books from underneath Micah’s greedy hand. “I assure you, you wouldn’t have had enough gold to cover the costs. Consider this a bargain.”

“I’m sure he has enough gold. He looks like a damned noble,” one of the men observed. “You and daddy have an argument? Is this your act of defiance? Learn a little black magic?”

“With a face like that,” the last man interjected with a languid stare, “You probably won’t want to put him on all fours.”

Micah narrowed his eyes. “Pity,” he drawled. “That’s my favorite position.”

“He has spirit. I like it.”

Crude, sexual harassment was not new to Micah, especially in the outer regions. There was only one man who nearly took advantage of him when he was much younger, but Micah never allowed another to do the same. Though this type of situation happened everywhere, the desert experienced it more frequently, simply because law enforcement was scarce.     

It was another reason Micah despised the capital.

It was another thing he’d want to fix.

Deliberately, he withdrew his sword, watching as the three men smirked with amusement. He mirrored their amusement with his own, more than willing to drive his blade into their guts and leave them on the floor like gutted boars. These three men were scumbags and did not deserve to live. They did not deserve to harm another innocent.

“I was more than willing to give you a fair deal,” Micah said to the storekeeper.

“I’ve been experiencing a rather dry spell,” the man replied airily, looking at Micah as if he were food. “You are a sight for sore eyes, boy.”

The stockiest and larger Igni man lunged for Micah. Nearly rolling his eyes, Micah sidestepped him and slammed his blade downward, into the man’s stomach. The man howled and dropped to the ground, slamming into the cobblestones with a hollow _thud._

Hands grabbed him from behind, forcing him to bend backward at an odd angle. The shopkeeper behind the counter squeezed his throat with sudden and surprising force. Micah heaved, his eyes nearly popping from his skull as the fingers crushed his windpipe. The man in front of him inched closer and Micah threw up his foot, catching the man’s chin with his boot. 

It only allowed him a second of reprieve and Micah brought back his sword blindly, swinging it in the general direction of the shopkeeper behind him. Though he did not hit flesh, his attack was enough to shake the hands from his throat.

Micah stumbled, inhaling greedily and touching his sore throat.

An object flew at him from his blind spot, slamming into his head. The glass shattered and sliced skin near his hairline, dazing him for just a moment.

He laughed. “Fools.”

Turning suddenly, he caught his attacker by the throat. The man seemed surprised at his abruptness. Micah tightened his hold on the man, staring into the cruel, yellow eyes.

“Such vermin,” Micah whispered hoarsely.

By no means was he larger than his attacker. In a battle of strength, he wouldn’t be able to hold the man still for long. Nevertheless, he didn’t need time. Not when he had power. The temperature dropped abruptly and his Elemental came forth eagerly. A surprising turn of events. It usually ignored his call.

The man struggled for a moment, realizing his throat gradually turned solid. Sharp, disbelieving grunts escaped his lips as Micah released him. The man reached for his throat, his hands trembling madly as his tanned skin turned a glacier blue. Clearly, he could not breathe. Could not speak.

He panicked.

Micah smiled thinly, watching the man suffer and collapse to the ground. His Element was always elusive and stubborn, often confusing Micah when it would come forth or stay obstinately buried. Especially when he needed it the most. Fortunately, he did not have to coax it out today. The Element seemed particularly attentive.

His attention then narrowed on the shopkeeper. The balding Igni man took one look at his comrade’s frozen neck and raced for the stairs.

He didn’t get very far.

Micah’s hand curled around his ankle. Abruptly yanking the man forward, the shopkeeper landed face down on the stairs. With forbidding slowness, Micah pulled him down each step, making it as jarring as possible. “I did say I was willing to give you a good deal,” he rasped through the soreness of his throat.

“Please, you can have the books! For free! And anything else,” the man pleaded.

“Men like you are all the same.” Micah yanked one last time. Standing on the stairs, he placed one foot on each side of the man, caging him in. “Together in a pack, you’re large and in charge. Nothing can touch you. When you find yourself standing alone, however, your cowardice is overwhelmingly noxious.”   

Cold anger beat within him, thrumming in his chest and electrifying his nerves. He could feel power coursing through his limbs. His fingers twitched, eager, willing. Staring into the terrified eyes of the man, Micah felt nothing but extreme glee.

He reached down and cupped the man’s flaccid manhood.

“ _No!_ ”

“Yes,” Micah whispered. “You wanted this, no? For your dry spell?”

He petted the man mockingly before reaching for his Element and freezing the _family jewels._ As the screams pierced through the cellar, Micah calmly walked back towards the counter. Grabbing the books, he placed them into his satchel and considered the two dead bodies.

This far out in Region 10 was so much of a pit, he had no qualms leaving corpses behind.   

Stepping over the suffering man, and intentionally planting his foot into the frozen groin to break off the cock, Micah climbed the stairs. Screams followed him all the way up to the storefront, only silencing when Micah slammed the door shut behind him. 

As he stood underneath the bright, relentless sun, he calmly wrapped his shemagh around his head and over his nose and mouth. Adjusting his bag over his shoulder, Micah made his way down the deserted alleyway and back into the throngs of the bazaar. He ignored vendors who called for his attention and swam through the thick crowd of sweaty and loosely robed bodies.

As the several feet scuffed across the hard, unforgiving ground, dust rose and suspended in the air. A cloud of haze stretched high into the sky, reaching wantonly towards the searing sun.

Micah watched as women gushed around the vendor who had traveled from the capital. The vendor sold fashion and jewelry that once belonged to nobles.

Despite the second-hand possessions, the females appeared exceptionally enamored. The vendor wouldn’t sell much, if any, here. He had probably traveled to each region’s village since his departure at the capital. His merchandise was little, indicating he’d sold much of it already. Unfortunately, the further he traveled south, the less wealthy his clientele.

It was the same for other vendors from the capital. Once they entered the outskirt regions, they’d have to sell at a deep discount to get rid of their unsold inventory. They hardly ever made an effort to travel to Region 20.

“That will be four silver pieces.”

Micah approached the food merchant. Reaching out, he snatched the wrist of the unaware consumer, holding it captive. He shook the man’s wrist that clutched the silver coins. “I only paid two pieces yesterday,” he informed.

The young man gazed at Micah before turning his attention to the vendor.

Said vendor appeared reluctant, but shook his head. “Two pieces then.”

After tossing the coins onto the counter, the man took the bowl of noodles. “Why do they always do that with me?” Kai inquired as he followed Micah away from the hustle of the bazaar.

“It’s how they make money,” he responded neutrally. “They take advantage of travelers and make a profit.”

“Travelers,” Kai repeated, as if insulted. “I am wearing their clothes.”

“And yet, your pale skin and blue eyes don’t seem to fit the general clientele.” Micah gazed at Kai, smirking at the boy’s petulant expression.

They both dressed in undescriptive trousers and shirts. Though reluctant at first, Kai decided to wear the shemagh to hide his startling blond hair. They did not garner as much attention when they wore the traditional headwear of the desert regions. Nevertheless, vendors still took advantage of Kai, which Micah found amusing.

The two men settled on a boulder that overlooked a fathomless canyon.

“Did you finally get what you needed?” the boy asked casually. He dropped the shemagh from his face and the material pooled around his neck.

“I did.”

Kai dug into his noodles, hardly batting a lash at Micah’s ambiguity. “Evidently you had to fight to get it.” He stirred the south’s spicy sauce around in his bowl. “You’re bleeding. And unless you came down with a sudden flu, your throat is raw and scratchy.”

“How irritatingly observant of you, Edlen.” Micah unraveled his own shemagh and used the material to wipe at the open wound near his hairline. It burned, though he couldn’t care a less.

“Just playing my role as the concerned ally, Egan.”

“Careful now,” Micah warned softly. “If you play the role too well, I might start believing you actually care.”

“I never do anything less than perfect. You’ll just have to learn how to make the distinction.”

From the corner of his eye, he watched as Kai inhaled his noodles with a surprising amount of savagery. Clearly, the nobility manners no longer applied in the desert regions. Micah scoffed and looked out at the red canyon. Several weeks had passed in their rather lackluster venture and Micah remained clueless to Kai’s intentions for accompanying him.

Besides sightseeing, growing familiar with other regions, and emptying his coins for both himself and Micah, Kai received nothing by traveling with him. There were several possibilities why the boy decided to leave the capital between terms. Micah had narrowed it down to three likely scenarios.

Either Kai was avoiding something back at the capital, he was truly concerned about Micah, or he saw it as an opportunity to grow close to Ezra, the royal heir. Now that Kai knew about his identity, the boy could take advantage by becoming a _trustworthy ally._ His proximity to Ezra would earn him a high position in court. It would bring him prestige and status.

Upon that initial though, Micah had admonished himself. Kai hadn’t changed after finding out about Micah being Ezra. He’d always possessed a sort of admiration towards Micah amongst a sea of angry animosity and dislike. The boy would say he disliked Micah, yet he always seemed to appear when he believed Micah needed help. 

No, Micah had an intuition that Kai was avoiding something.

Alternatively, perhaps he really was worried how Micah would react after Keegan’s…

Passing.

“I never thought I would say this,” Kai started after swallowing his mouthful of noodles. “But there is something beautiful about the desert regions.”

“Beautiful,” Micah agreed as he gazed out into the barren and distant canyon. The high sun cast massive shadows across the rocky terrain, creating deep, fathomless cavities. He especially thought the canyon beautiful during the evening when the dying sun cast everything in shades of crimson. “But so far gone in its corruption. Good things hardly ever originate from the desert.”

“Besides Keegan.”

Kai’s words caused Micah to still and his mind to blank. With his thoughts centering on the three men at the shop, he had to do a sudden turnaround with the very mention of his friend and the purity he’d carried like a second skin. While Keegan had to struggle with the typical transgressions of the south, like hunger and crime, a close and protective family had raised him. The other man had been clueless how to deal with people who had less than noble intentions.

Micah exhaled quietly and nodded with agreement. “Besides Keegan.”

Kai studied him closely before looking back down at his food. “I’d say you as well, Egan, but…” the man trailed off. “You’re just as corrupted as the rest of us mere mortals.”

A sly smirk curled Micah’s lips.

Indeed, he was.

Kai sighed angrily. “Why are there so many?”

It took Micah only a moment to realize what frustrated Kai. Just a distance away, a young girl lingered shyly behind a large boulder. Several people passed her by, hardly paying her any heed as they shopped for supplies. She braced her small hands on the rock, blinking at Kai and the noodles in his hand. Her arms were rail thin, her belly large with malnutrition. A simple smock dressed her skeletal frame, dirtied and torn.

Micah grimaced, though the sight was common for him. Kai, however, seemed especially bothered whenever they encountered abandoned children. He would grow agitated as if the children were the root of his anger. 

However, he’d do something generous like—

“Here.” Kai lifted the bowl of noodles towards the small child. The girl ducked down lower, afraid at the suddenness of his actions. “I’m not going to hurt you. You can have it if you’d like.”

Trying to act nonchalant, he stood from his position. Avoiding eye contact with the child, he placed the bowl on the ground a distance away from his position on the boulder. Slowly, as if not to rile a wild animal, Kai returned to his spot and turned his back to the girl. As predicted, the child stayed rooted in place.

Only after a respectable amount of time passed, she ventured tentatively from her perch and approached the bowl of noodles. When she got within reaching distance, she grabbed the bowl and sprinted away, her bare feet slapping the dirt road.

“You’re not affected,” Kai accused.

“No,” Micah responded levelly. “It’s a situation I grew up with constantly.”

Kai deliberated for a moment. “Region 20 is one of the poorest regions. How did you survive? Did your… mother have enough money from living in the capital?”

There were a few occasions Kai asked him small questions about his upbringing and other matters of his personal life. Micah had learned to respond truthfully, knowing the other man was curious. “You’d think she’d have trunks full.” Micah smirked darkly. “I believe she had some gold in the beginning, though it ran out quickly. By the time we reached Region 20, we had nothing but what we earned at our previous residencies from miscellaneous work we’d perform.”

“Why did she do it? Why did she run?”

Micah looked at Kai, considering. “I’ve yet to hear the true story. I don’t think I ever will. All three of them are deceivers and they play on nothing but dishonesty.” He turned back to the canyon. “My mother claimed Calder and Josiah deceived her. I imagine Calder would tell me a story I hadn’t heard before.”

“You’ll have to face him eventually,” Kai said.

Micah mulled over the words.

Calder indicated as much the day of Keegan’s service. The man was probably impatient with the news of Micah’s disappearance from the capital. What waited for them upon their arrival would most likely be a frustrated king. And Josiah. Micah closed his eyes briefly, not knowing how to act, what to feel. The betrayal was still sharp. Bitter. Yet, something pulled him back to the older man, reminding him of the impossibility of being angry forever.

“Let’s go. We need to find a room for tonight.”

Micah stood up and Kai quickly followed. They wrapped their shemaghs over their faces once again and ventured through the bazaar. The sun beat warmly across Micah’s back, causing the sweat to accumulate at the back of his sore neck.

“Would you like your fortune told?”

He turned and locked eyes with an elderly woman leaning across the counter of her station. Her bosom was large and left nothing to the imagination. Considering the lack of customers, the people in Region 10 did not believe in wasting valuable gold on a woman who proclaimed herself a spiritual nomad.

Imagine that.

“No,” Kai replied shortly.

“I will give you enough temptation to spark your interest,” she persisted. She reached for Kai, gazing at him with her eyes unfocused. “You will have glory bestowed upon you, my boy!” Her eyes then landed on Micah and she frowned. “I sense something very malevolent around you. It’s focused on you.”

“That would be my uncle,” Micah replied cynically, earning an amused snort from Kai.

“No, no,” she responded fiercely. “Not blood. Most _definitely_ not relative. It has taken a very unnatural interest in you.” She reached out, as if to touch Micah. Her hand suddenly pulled back. “You—you… have darkness, yes? Something dark is growing inside you.” She abruptly stopped talking and cowered away.

Micah watched, bemused, as she hurried from her booth and towards a man. She engaged him in a harried conversation, gesturing towards him. The man, in turn, scowled darkly.

“On second thought, why don’t we catch a train back to the capital?” Kai inquired. “You’re upsetting far too many people here, Egan.” 

Clearly.

Micah was at a loss of what ensnared the woman’s fear. Had she somehow sensed the books in his bag? Perhaps she grew fearful enough to tell others. If it wasn’t the books, however, what, exactly, had ignited such fear? A part of him wanted to ask her, though she appeared far too afraid to welcome such an approach. He started to speculate himself, his resolution only growing to study the books in his bag and become an expert in the subject.

No matter, Kai was correct.

It was time to head back to the capital. He’d gotten what he needed.

 

*** * * ***

 

Hobbling from foot to foot, Pele braced himself on the counter, nearly hyperventilating. His eyes roamed over his two comrades, unable to look away from their lifeless stares. They received a harsher fate, yet Pele could _not_ wrap his mind over his loss. His hand trembled as it reached between his legs.

He’d touched himself several times before and the result remained the same.

Nothing.

A strangled whine sounded as he pressed his fingers against his pelvic bone and around his groin. It did not hurt. It was still numb with cold. Rotating his torso, he looked back at the staircase, spying the object of his misery. It lay in a crushed pile, glimmering like ice as it had slipped down his pant leg when he’d stood. Pele squinted at the shattered manhood, dry sobs originating deep within his chest and spilling from his mouth with unrestrained wretchedness.

It was surreal.

So surreal.

That _monster._

A soft, nearly inaudible chuckle resonated across the basement.

Pele nearly missed it amongst his cries of denial, but it was unnerving enough that it pierced through his sorrow. “Whose there?” Straightening, he balled his fists furiously. “H-have you returned, boy? I swear to Agni, I will wring your neck, you pathetic bastard! Come out and face me!”

The distorted laughter subsided. “Is that truly what you want?” the voice inquired silkily.

Pele squinted into the shadows, spying a darker shape amongst the blackness. It appeared like a man, though it possessed broader shoulders than the boy’s lithe frame. Suddenly, red eyes blinked back at him and fear struck Pele cold.

He stepped back. “What are you?”

“No need for introductions. This will only take a moment of your time.”

The shadow moved closer and Pele scrambled backward, running up the stairs. Only, the door slammed shut, locking him underground. With his pulse in his throat, he turned slowly, feeling the hairs rise on the back of his neck. There, at the bottom of the stairs, stood the figure. Enough shadow cloaked the figure to obscure the features, though it was unmistakably male.

Red eyes gleamed up at him. “I should be thankful he left you for me,” the man mused. “Though I’m in no state to perform anything intricately satisfying.”

“He spared me!” Pele shouted.

The amusement from the figure suddenly extinguished and the fear—the horror—returned to suffocate Pele. He gasped, feeling a terrible migraine pound behind his eyes.

“The audacity of mortals always fascinates me. He did not _spare_ you.” The shadowed figure took a step closer to the stairs. “He wanted you to suffer. I want to end you.” Red eyes narrowed. “You placed your hands where they did not belong.”

Pele’s eyes fluttered uncontrollably and he sagged against the closed door. His hands reached out to brace against the wall, hardly recognizing that they trembled so much, he failed several times to make contact with anything but air. He’d never felt this before, this all-consuming fear, horror. It was gripping. As soon as the sweat dripped from his temples, it evaporated against his cold skin. The small hairs on his arm stood on end and the goose bumps were relentlessly prominent.

“Agni…” Pele whimpered, praying to his god.

_Please, please, help me._

The figure laughed true glee and stepped fully into the light. “He cannot help you.”

Pele slammed his palms against his head, screaming as he tried to comprehend the sight before him. The migraine behind his eyes turned inconceivably unrelenting. The pain. The pain. It was too much! His mind split in two. Pupils dilating, he stared wide-eyed at the figure at the foot of the staircase. Liquid dripped from his eyes and Pele barely recognized it as blood before his head exploded.

Literally.

The headless corpse slumped motionlessly against the gore-covered wall.

The figure lingered for a moment before slowly disintegrating, like that of a flame blown from its wick.

 

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry in advance for any typos...

**2\. Chapter Two**

Micah had never seen the palace in his adult life, at least not up close like this.

Recognition lingered at the back of his mind as he observed the unbelievably large structure. It was familiar to him, yet it also seemed like the first time absorbing the fine details. From a distance, he noticed the primary material that made up the structure was white stone and glass. Upon closer inspection, his assumptions proved correct. The stone was regal and mighty, stretching high up into the air with extravagant curves and flashy arches. There were exaggerated depressions carved intricately into the stone and oil rubbed balconies on the top floors out-looking the capital. It appeared as if every single corner was touched with caring and attentive hands.

Micah stared at the structure through lowered lashes, impressed, but unwilling to admit as much. He especially admired the stained glass windows with their vivid and lovely colors. Colors he’d never seen replicated before. The doors on the palace were also large—majestic—and striking. Everything about it was remarkable and so regal.

“Don’t look so disgusted,” Kai observed with amusement. “It’s okay to admit the palace is an attractive building. I’ve always admired it.”

“You’re tastes are superficial,” Micah countered.

“Easy now,” Sachiel interfered, his body and tone uncharacteristically rigid. “I’ve warned you that King Calder is far from pleased with your little outing. The least you can do is tone down your animosity and feign submission.”

“Feign submission? You’re asking the impossible from _him_ ,” Kai replied.

Micah hardly took much insult to the comment. In fact, he took it as a compliment.

“I know,” Sachiel replied, exasperated.

They were all tired. Irritable. Upset. Micah felt particularly short-tempered and cynical. It was noon and they’d just returned to the capital. Upon their arrival, Sachiel ushered them together and informed them the king wanted their presence _immediately._ And not a second later. Micah hadn’t slept well the past few nights on the train, either had Kai. All they’d wanted to do was shower and sleep, though they found themselves standing before the palace, covered with dust, grime, and cooled sweat.

Sachiel led them up the stairs to the main entrance, bypassing the guards with ease.

Micah tried to collect his wits. It was a struggle, his mind foggy —tired— though he believed he’d succeeded enough to face his father. Fortunately, he had several weeks to prepare himself for this inevitable meeting.

He knew Calder was unhappy. Moreover, Micah knew from Ember’s account that when Calder was upset, he had the tendency to harness the situation with intentions of reacquiring tight control. He would undoubtedly see Micah’s absence as an act of defiance. In turn, there was a possibility he would put his son in his place by playing a totalitarian role.  

Micah could deal with that.

For now.

After all, the man had granted him space after Keegan’s passing. The least Micah could do was humor the man with a conversation.

As they walked into the entryway of the palace, Micah couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming up the tall walls and toward the arched ceilings. Underneath his feet, the floors were glossy and pale in color. Marble, he supposed. They walked for a distance, past the meticulous columns, past the floor to ceiling windows, and towards a noble door. The door, carved from rich cherry wood, swung open and Sachiel led them inside.

Micah passed the royal guards positioned on either side of the door, dimly realizing that they bent low in a gesture of reverence. They only did that in the presence of royalty.

His presence was not a secret any longer, he realized with a sudden spasm of sharp anger.

“Kai Edlen.”

There were so many people gathered inside the throne room with airs of high nobility and unparalleled influence. Micah didn’t know where to look first. Kai took the lead, seemingly accustomed to the situation. Micah followed immediately after, succeeding his comrade’s footsteps with intentional slowness.

“Your _hair,_ ” the young woman admonished, examining Kai’s shortened locks, which ended just underneath his ears. He’d cut it to reprieve the hot, humid days of the outer regions. “It looks so common— _oh!_ ” She trailed off abruptly as her eyes focused keenly on Micah.

Crimson stained her cheeks as she turned her shoulder, engaging the other young females in hushed, excited conversation. They giggled quietly, their pleasure evident, their fascination kindled as they watched Micah closely. Some preformed perfect curtsies, while others were far too engrossed to move at all. The fascination did not stop at the group of women. Whispers spread across the throne room like wildfire at the mere sight of Micah.

Kai turned and gazed at Micah, hardly impressed. “Of course they’d like _your_ hair.”

The young man stopped suddenly and got down on one knee. As his tall frame lowered, Micah got an eyeful of King Calder sitting indolently on his throne. Father and son locked eyes and Micah stiffened, feeling a sense of…

What was it?

Anticipation?

Curiosity?

Perhaps a little bit of both.

The noise in the throne room silenced immediately as all eyes turned towards them. They watched him curiously, intrigued, judgmental. He paid them no heed as he dropped his satchel on the ground with a heavy _thump_ and bowed low at the waist.

“I apologize for our uncleanliness and poor presentation, Your Majesty,” he started dryly. “We were reprimanded and pulled abruptly from the train before it stopped. I’m afraid bathing didn’t quite fit the itinerary.”

Kai turned slowly and stared at him as if he’d lost his head. Suddenly, a high-pitched scream sounded next to Micah. He turned, on edge, though upon witnessing the cause for alarm, he smirked. A large desert spider, that had clearly hitched a ride in Micah’s bag, crawled from its confinements and loitered near the females.

They grouped together, staring at it as if it were an abomination.

Micah took a step forward and crushed it with the toe of his boot. It crunched audibly and he intentionally dragged his foot, smearing blood across the pristine, white tile. “Careful now, those are known to carry lethal venom.”  

They were harmless, really.

The women stared at him in alarm. Before he could say anything further, he felt the presence at his back.

The man was like an obstinate _beacon_. Every inch of his body prickled agreeably under the man’s attention.

Micah despised every second of it.

He slowly turned to Josiah, locking eyes with noble orange. The hatred and the temptation all returned upon seeing Josiah again. Micah wanted to be closer, to wrap his hands around the man’s throat. To possess him. Dominate him. Hate him. Consume him. The sensations were so strong, he had to curl his hands to hide their tremor.

“ _Micah_ ,” Josiah greeted quietly, seemingly recognizing Micah’s stare for what it really was. The man preened in his own, elusive way. “Welcome home.”

The Igni king took a step towards him and then another.

Micah stiffened at the proximity, his pulse climbing up his throat. Only, Josiah breezed past him and approached the raised dais.

He seethed at the man’s back.

Calder stood up, drawing Miah’s attention. The king nodded to someone across the room. Gradually, as if that gesture was enough of a command, everyone began to clear out of the throne room. Their gazes lingered and the whispering intensified. Soon, only one man stayed behind. Judging from his hard look at Kai, Micah assumed it was Seaton Edlen, Kai’s father.

“You may rise, Mr. Edlen,” Calder bade. He lingered at the top of the dais, observing the two military cadets. “It is a pleasure to see you both back at the capital. Though your leave was abrupt and rather untimely.”

Kai stood from his kneeling position but kept his head lowered submissively.

Before Micah could ask who, exactly, saw their departure as untimely, Seaton took a step forward, his gaze repulsed as he stared at his son. Micah supposed they didn’t make the best impression. Their combat boots were unpolished and dirty, their clothes sandy, stained. The shemagh around their necks sagged, smelling of sweat and heat.

Then again, Calder requested they report to the capital _straightaway_.

“You look…” Seaton shook his head, nearly a loss for words. “Like a desert _rat._ It is shameful you even dared step foot inside these walls looking like that. Your hair. What did you do with your hair?”

Micah grinned widely, his disdain roused and his amusement growing.

He’d nearly forgotten society wore their hair long as a badge of honor.

How very silly.

Kai looked up at his father. “It’s far more practical in the desert, father.” He looked at Micah. “Besides, I have reason to believe it will be quite the fashion trend.”

Judging from Seaton’s taken aback expression, Kai’s sarcasm was not characteristic, nor appreciated. The older aristocrat swung his attention to Micah, immediately zeroing in on his grin. “So this is Micah Egan,” the man observed quietly. He clasped his hands behind his back. “I’ve heard much about you, not all of it is positive.”

“I imagine your source isn’t very reliable if you’ve heard _anything_ positive.”

At Micah’s cheek, Seaton barely batted a lash.

“I agree,” he said. “I am looking at the evidence right now. You have had a very bad influence on my son ever since the academy started.”

Micah wanted to hold his tongue, though he wasn’t one for a filter.

Especially when it came to egotistical nobles who looked down their nose at him. He hated that superior expression on Seaton’s face and sought to erase it. “Oh, I would argue that, Mr. Edlen,” Micah started quietly. “There are many times I’d like to be a _very bad_ influence on your son. He obstinately resists my charm.”

Kai exhaled next to him with amused disbelief.

Seaton’s face pinched an awful shade of white. He turned his heel sharply, towards Calder. “I see you will have your hands full, Your Majesty,” he nearly yelled, undoubtedly upset and at his breaking point. He bowed stiffly. “I bid you a good day. Kai. Come.”

Micah watched as the two retreated out the door with a slam.

Recognizing it was finally time to confront the two men at his back, Micah gathered his strength and turned, gazing at Calder and Josiah with a guiltlessness expression. Calder stared at him as if he truly did not know how to react. Josiah, on the other hand, simply seemed entertained.

The king turned to Josiah in silent accusation. Not finding anything remotely incriminating in that direction, he turned back around, seemingly a loss for words. “Well,” he started after a long silence. “I see you inherited your uncle’s finesse for acerbity. We will have a good time correcting that, I’m sure. Otherwise, a particularly remarkable first impression at court. Truly.”   

His eyes dropped to Micah’s bag and the dead spider on the floor.

Micah offered a coy smile. “I see acerbity also runs on my father’s side.”

Calder’s eyebrows rose sharply. “You are… truly a challenge.”

“Forgive me.” Micah took a stance and clasped his hands behind his back, feigning bravado when his pulse raced crazily. He was _upset_ Calder revealed his identity without proper warning or approval. “But I fail to remember giving you the impression that I wanted to be on display. Though, in my absence, it appears as if that was decided for me.”

“Fair enough,” Calder consented with heavy mockery. “You did not have any say in the matter, now you are acting out with the intentions of soiling your reputation the first few _seconds_ of entering the palace.”

“I saved a group of girls from an insect.” Micah looked back at the gore on the floor. “I hardly see what is so damning about my actions.”

“You know very well I am speaking of your crude behavior to Councilman Edlen.”

“I only return what has been bestowed upon me.”

“ _Enough_!”

Micah blinked, surprised when Calder’s voice resonated furiously around the throne room. The fountain across the room rippled, as if sensing the water Elemental’s frustrations.

“Bravo,” Josiah congratulated slyly. “It appears as if you are managing the situation with your son famously, Calder.” The man had since taken position on his throne, watching the proceedings and doing nothing to hide his glee at the wretched meeting between father and son.

“I’m sure you find interacting with him quite the entertainment.”

Josiah tapped the armrest of his chair upon Calder’s contemptuous observation. “I do. He and I get along very well.”

“Hardly,” Micah countered.

Calder pinched the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath, as if mentally realigning his approach in order to accommodate the unexpectedness of Micah’s bold temperament. The man was not accustomed to this; he was not accustomed to _Micah_. He was just as thrown over their reunion as Micah was. It was uncharted territory for the both of them.

Calder dropped his arm and his bright blue eyes focused keenly on Micah. The intensity was enough to make the younger shift. “I apologize, Ezra. This is not how I intended our first meeting to go.” His expression morphed into gentle regard as he walked down the steps of the dais. “I am _very_ pleased to see you again. After so long, it’s jarring to see you grown up. A man.”  

He stopped just before Micah and raised his hand slowly.

Though Calder gave enough fair warning, Micah did not move away from the hand that cupped his cheek. He stared into his father’s eyes, seeing true sentiment.

It felt… odd standing before Calder.

And Josiah.

After his upbringing, with Ember instilling dislike within him for these men, he had never believed he’d stand before them under these circumstances. Circumstances that propelled him to want to get to know these men. Interact with them. Though he didn’t particularly _like_ or trust them, destroying them without proper cause was no longer a driving and blind compulsion.

That was Ember’s fevered desire and Micah was not her puppet.

His strings never felt so slack.

“What happened?” Calder inquired quietly.

Calder’s fingers climbed further up his jawline, towards his hairline, nearly touching Micah’s wound. The man’s gaze then lowered, catching sight of the bruises. Without warning, Calder tugged at the heavy scarf across Micah’s neck, revealing the finger-like bruises across his neck. Micah stiffened as he felt Josiah’s penetrating stare across the room.

“Who did this?” Calder demanded.

“It was a simple misunderstanding,” Micah informed.

“A simple misunderstanding does not leave handprints like this,” Calder argued fervently. “Who did this?”

“Your concern is appreciated,” Micah said in a tone that indicated otherwise. He realized Calder would not drop the matter until he dispelled it. “However, they’ve been dealt with. It’s done.”

“They?” Josiah asked idly.

Micah’s jaw tensed and he looked over at the Igni king. The man rested a curled hand against his face as he watched the proceedings with lazy interest. His eyes, however, pierced through Micah with anything but idleness.

“Did you truly deal with all of them?” the man probed. “No… loose ends?”

Micah narrowed his gaze suspiciously. “It’s done,” he repeated.

A sudden, predatory smile crossed the man’s lips. Otherwise, Josiah made no other comment or indication of the situation. The man knew something, Micah realized, though he wondered how that was even possible.

_Daemon._

“I wanted you both present today, as it appears I have been intentionally left in the dark for quite some time,” Calder started, unaware of Micah’s wandering mind. “Clearly, you’re reacquainted with… your uncle. When did you first interact with him, Ezra?”

Calder took a step back to observe both Micah and Josiah with startling concentration. Clearly, he’d wanted them both present in order to gauge their reactions, their stories. Sniff out any deceit or underhanded ploys. Micah did not fault the man for being mistrustful and spiteful. It was to be expected. Josiah had, after all, kept Micah’s presence a secret for so many years.

“Just before last term began,” he answered, not seeing any harm with the truth. “He collected me from Region 20 and brought me to the capital. That was the first time I’d seen him since living at the palace.”

Josiah smiled.

“Region 20 was were your mother took you,” Calder implied.

“Ultimately.” Micah paused. “We jumped frequently in the beginning, traveling further south as we ran out of gold.”

Calder observed him solemnly, unhappily. “Evidently, you tracked them.” Here, his regard focused exclusively on Josiah and stayed there for a time. Surely, after so many years suffering in each other’s close company, Calder could read more to Josiah’s expression than just simple impassiveness. “You knew he was in Region 20. Ripe and prime for the picking just in time for your academy. The same year you were assigned Chairman.”

“It took a few years to find them, but yes. I knew where they were.”

 _Lies_ , Micah noted. It hadn’t taken years. Josiah claimed he’d located Ember and Ezra almost as soon as they left the palace walls.

“In what way, exactly, did it play in your favor to keep their location a secret?”

Josiah dropped his hand and stood from his throne. “Do you want to know my intentions, Calder? I will save you the trouble of conceiving possible scenarios and just hand you the reality.” He walked down the dais with intentional slowness. “I didn’t want Ezra being raised as a prince. I didn’t want him coddled. Spoiled. I didn’t want him to feel entitled.”

Micah watched the two, intrigued as they faced off against one another, seemingly forgetting about his presence.

“You had _no right_ ,” Calder hissed.

“I had every right,” Josiah countered evenly. “I had just as much right to his upbringing as you. More so than Ember. He is also the heir to _my_ old kingdom. My line.”

“You and I were raised as _princes_ ,” Calder insisted vehemently. “I had the situation handled. I knew what I was doing.”

“On the contrary, when I arrived at the palace, things had already turned sour. Ezra was innocent enough, though he was getting to the age where he started observing and retaining things at a rapid pace.” Josiah glanced at Micah before refocusing on a fuming Calder. “You weren’t the problem. It was the boy’s surroundings. He was only a child and they all walked around him as if he were a god. He wasn’t only a prince. In their eyes, they prophesied he’d unite two races together. They would have _ruined_ him.” 

Micah hadn’t considered it that way, though Josiah’s words were true.

So very true.

The man seemed especially passionate about it as well, as if it were a personal misconduct against _him_ that the people would have tainted Micah into a spoiled version of himself.

“It wasn’t ideal, but when Ember left, I humored her. I took my chances that things would turn out for the best.”

“She was _sick_!” Calder argued. “She was mentally unwell.”

“Why?” Micah interrupted tenaciously. Calder and Josiah were facing off with each other, yet Micah refused to stand as a sole and silent bystander. This was his life. His mother. His mother who’d been both physically and mentally unwell. However, he’d never understood the _reasons why_. “Because she found out about your infidelity? She became vengeful?”

Calder stared at Josiah before he turned to Micah. “I was never raised with the principle of monogamy, Ezra.” The words were factual and detached. Clearly, Calder’s tone indicated monogamy was a value his family never bestowed upon him.  “That didn’t mean I didn’t care for her or treat her well,” he continued. “However, she became unwell rather early in our marriage. During her pregnancy.”

Josiah’s mouth twisted. “One could argue, because she conceived Ezra during her wedding night, she was miserable during your entire marriage. Not just early on. Perhaps it was not her pregnancy, but rather her husband.”

Calder hardly paid the man any heed as he continued to focus on Micah. “Many Healers assured Ember and I that women often established a sort of depression upon giving birth to a child. It is a common, but unspoken disorder. She was rather young. A child, really, when she had you. Her depression only seemed to have gotten worse, which is why it is a wonder your uncle allowed her to take you.”

A depression upon giving birth.

Micah never heard of such a thing, but perhaps Calder was right, perhaps women tried to hide the condition. Especially the queen of the empire. He supposed he could understand, to some degree, why his mother had always been so disheartened. He didn’t know anything about the condition mentioned, but it was enlightening to finally hear a theory about Ember’s situation.

It was also a bit distressing to know he’d been the cause of it. While it was undeniably unintentional and subconscious, Micah still felt an irony that he, something she held so close with possessive greed, was the direct cause of her condition.

Yet, according to Josiah, she _had_ been the one to set the nursery on fire.

Micah just didn’t understand it. Perhaps she really had been insane.

“And yet, her son remained the only thing that kept her sane,” Josiah remarked softly, as if reading Micah’s thoughts. “I had eyes on him. I knew she’d never truly harm him.” The man gradually began to loop around father and son. “He’s known hunger, pain, and suffering. The true harshness of the world. He’s had to grow up fast, but his destiny demands it be that way.”

“That’s a cruel punishment. There were other ways,” Calder said.

“You would have never tolerated anything of the sort.”

“Of course not! Because he’s my _son_!”

“It was necessary.” Josiah circled Micah, looking at him directly. “I monitored you, but it wasn’t constant. I apologize for any _unnecessary_ harshness life put you through. Damaging you was not my intention. If I had damaged you, Ezra, then I have failed you in that regard.”

Micah lifted his chin and levelled the man with a cold look. “You’ve failed me in more than one regard, Josiah.” 

They both knew Micah was referring to the situation with Keegan.

With the Magi.

Josiah narrowed his eyes. “That is an ignorant accusation. You are my priority.”

“Why? Because I’m your Chosen?” Micah countered with deathly calm.

Calder made a noise in his throat. “You did all this because he was your Chosen, didn’t you?” the man accused. He then released a startled, cruel laugh. “You have a warped sense of entitlement to his upbringing because you wanted a perfect match. Someone who would not recoil from your depravities.”

Micah directed his attention away from the two men, holding his tongue. Josiah had no claim on him. Not anymore. Not after Micah discovered his Chosen and it wasn’t Josiah. So why didn’t he inform Calder of this? He could have. Something told him he would open up new avenues to Calder and give the man a higher ground above Josiah.

So why… _didn’t he_?

He could feel Josiah’s gaze on him. The man waited patiently, anticipating Micah would enthusiastically deny their status as Chosen. Only, Micah remained silent.

For reasons unknown to him.

Perhaps he wanted to sit on it further. He could use this to his advantage if he so desired.

“Something like that,” Josiah responded to Calder and moved away to circle the room again. “Now that we’ve thoroughly discussed why I kept Ezra’s location a secret, I’m sure we can move on, no?”

Micah did not turn, but he was aware of Josiah pausing near his bag and intentionally lingering. If the man found out about the books, Micah would receive harsh reprimand and the books would be confiscated. Alternatively, knowing Josiah, the man already knew of the books and merely preferred to toy with Micah.  

“You and I are not finished with this—”

“I don’t imagine we are,” Josiah interrupted. “We can discuss, in finer detail, the difference between one son, who was raised appropriately, against another bastard son, who was raised by the palace. One can find his way out of a bag, the other cannot.” He waved his hand casually. “That should be a conversation for another time. I’m sure Ezra is impatient to get some rest before term starts.”

“That is rather considerate of you,” Micah commented dryly, far more amused over the man’s comment about Ladon than he let on. “I would have assumed you’d consider my exhaustion a necessary harshness of life. A good training regimen in order to build character.”

Josiah didn’t respond right away, when he did, he was just as sarcastic as Micah. “That would be pain and suffering,” he corrected. “It is vital to remain well-rested.”

Despite himself, Micah’s lips curled in delight.

Calder walked over to the dais, his expression pinched. “You two are far too alike. I anticipate that it will try my patience.” He lowered himself onto the stair, a very un-king like gesture. Yet, he somehow managed to perch upright with a ridiculous amount of regality. The man just _reeked_ of aristocracy even when he tried to give off the opposite impression. “Keeping you separated—”

“You may try,” Josiah invited with an all-too guileless solicitation.

Clasping his hands over his knees, Calder diverted his attention from Josiah to Micah.

“Ezra,” he called quietly. “Where is your mother?”

Upon mention of his mother’s current whereabouts, Micah stiffened. “That question would be best directed elsewhere,” he replied darkly.

Calder’s gaze landed directly over Micah’s shoulder, indicating Josiah had moved closer. “Why does that not surprise me?”

“Ember remains elusive,” Josiah informed. Somehow, despite his typical indistinctness, Micah could sense the truth in his statement. “My attentions have been elsewhere. She is of little importance at the moment.”

“Do not underestimate her,” Micah cautioned, feeling a bit irked at their dismissal of Ember. “She is resourceful and she has enough resentment for the both of you to cause damage.” He caught Calder’s considering stare and inclined his head. “She raised me to hate you and Josiah. I hardly think that should come to a surprise.”

He could see it in Calder’s eyes.

Like Josiah during their first interaction, Calder assumed Micah was Ember’s marionette. While Micah did enter the capital with Ember’s plans cumbersomely pushed up his sleeve, they quickly became uninspiring and unrealistic when Josiah got to him first.

“Ezra—”

“I have no intentions of taking the throne,” Micah intervened. “You don’t have to constantly watch your back. As far as the public discovering my identity, I did not intend to reveal myself either. That was _your_ decision and a poor one.”

“A poor one,” Calder tested the words, most likely unfamiliar with anyone outright criticizing his judgements. “And why is that?”

Josiah brushed shoulders with Micah as he approached the dais.

“They will have undue expectations,” Micah responded with a distracted look towards the Igni lord. “They will expect a prince readily assuming his position. I would hate to disappoint them, but it’s necessary they don’t assume anything from me.”

Calder stared.

There was no better word for it.

“You are under false delusions, my son,” the man finally proclaimed. “You were conceived for this very—”

He cut himself off abruptly.

“Yes?” Micah inquired lazily, already knowing what the man intended to say.

Calder’s lips pinched. “You were conceived for this very purpose.”

“Subtle,” Josiah praised from his perch in the corner.

“You are old enough to realize your mother and I married out of convenience and political necessity,” Calder defended adamantly. “We conceived a child in order to bridge the gap between two, opposing races.”

“You mean… you and mother didn’t love each other?” Micah inquired softly.

Initially, Calder appeared perturbed at the question. He then saw the defiance in Micah’s gaze and his expression darkened into one of intrigued contemplation. The man really had no idea what kind of man he’d spawned.

“You may believe I am ill-informed,” Micah began coldly, “but I am not entirely clueless. I understand the reasons behind your union with Ember. I know why you had to conceive an heir. Emotions were set aside, free will questionably intact, all for political motivations. For power. For control.”

For the first time since their discussion, Micah stirred.

Perhaps he was too tense in the beginning, too unfamiliar with the atmosphere. His confidence seemed to return, for he approached Calder with the intentional slowness of a predator. “Nevertheless, I think you greatly overestimate my influence to this kingdom. The Igni men and women who kneel readily before Josiah would never consider me their next king. Just the same, the pompous nobles who follow _you_ would not hesitate to gut me as soon as I took the throne.”

“A slow transition is imperative,” Josiah agreed. “It is a sensitive situation. Not only for the people of the kingdom, but for your own safety.”

“You’ve already impacted several younger individuals,” Calder declared. “Sachiel tells me you are quite the charmer. Our generation will not be around forever.” He motioned to Josiah. “There needs to be a shift in power. Gradual. Josiah and I will be by your side.”

Micah couldn’t help but scoff at that. “You and Josiah acting in accord?”

_Co-parenting?_

_Agni…_ wasn’t that rich?

“When it comes to you, I believe we share a common goal.”

Highly unlikely.

Looking at both men, Micah couldn’t help but smirk widely. Yes, they both wanted the same thing. For him to take the crown. After the crown haloed his head, their interests would fragment and their own games would begin. There was one thing Master Idris correctly deduced that night of Keegan’s death.

Micah stood in the middle of Calder and Josiah. Their game of tug-of-war would most certainly be trying, but it was a challenge Micah would readily accept. He had his own influence, his own ropes, after all. He wagered his influence would be just as consuming as their own. Nonetheless, the idea of the throne did not appeal to him.

“No. I don’t want the throne.”

Calder frowned deeply. “Ezra.”   

“Give him time, Calder,” Josiah suggested slyly. “The boy is clearly overwhelmed and cannot handle the situation right now.”

Micah bristled. Before he could deliver a scathing remark, Calder stood up.

“Josiah, please give me a moment alone with Ezra.”

Josiah bowed at the waist with a flourish. “Your Majesty.”

Micah watched him narrowly as the man passed and proceeded down the aisle towards the doors. Micah remained stiff, upset as he redirected his attention to Calder. The man watched him closely, knowingly.

As soon as the door closed, Calder spoke. “I will say it again. You and are uncle are too similar.”

“I don’t consider him my uncle,” Micah argued. “Nor any sort of parental figure.”

The king contemplated for a moment. “What do you consider him?”

Micah’s mind froze upon the question, never asking it himself. Just what did he consider Josiah? An enemy. A fierce ally. A constant reminder of how much Micah needed to achieve in order to become an _equal._ Prey. A clever and unsympathetic deceiver. A temptation. And a possessive comrade. Josiah was all those things, yet how could Micah put those contradictory feelings into words?

“I haven’t decided yet,” he settled with.

What he had with Josiah was equivocal.

Even to him.

Calder nodded. “Even so, though you two are remarkably similar, I can sense something inside you that is far more…” he trailed off, as if a loss for words. “Innocent?” At Micah’s scowl, Calder corrected himself. “Kind,” he determined. “You are far more sympathetic than Josiah, than your mother, than even myself.” He stepped closer to Micah. “Perhaps I’m wrong, but if I am correct, I don’t want to stifle that particular characteristic of yours.”

“Sympathetic,” Micah repeated, offended. “I’m far from it.”

“Oh, I imagine you can be quite cruel. It is in your blood, after all,” Calder said. “But I also imagine you are very loyal and often times sympathetic to those who cannot defend themselves. Am I wrong?”

“I find it impossible you can accurately judge my character when we’ve only interacted for a matter of _minutes_ ,” Micah informed.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps I’ve asked around.” Calder smiled thinly. “I want you to be a part of this regime, Ezra. I think you’d make a fine ruler someday with training and a little bit of guidance. I will give you time to think things over, as long as you agree to one thing.”

Something roused within him at Calder’s words. His tone. Micah smelt something akin to well-hidden desperation as Calder tried to play him appropriately. “Let’s not play coy,” he said. “It sounds as though you need me.”

Calder narrowed his eyes. “I do not believe you are assessing the situation correctly.”

“Oh, I think I am,” Micah mused. “Your control over the capital is fragile and weak. If Josiah dies prematurely, you’ll have an uprising on your hands. You’ll need someone who has the Igni royal blood.”

“We dominated in the war,” Calder stated. “We’d do so again if necessary.”

“Yes, but you want an unstoppable nation. Although you like to keep the Igni people stifled and humbled, this kingdom relies on their labor and their numbers. No other empire would challenge you when you have two powerful races under your command.” 

“What you say is true,” Calder admitted easily. “However, I do not _need_ you. I _want_ you at my side. Those are two entirely different sentiments.”

Micah did not believe Calder. Nevertheless, he would humor the man. “That’s true. You also have Ladon as a reserve.”

Calder suddenly grabbed his shoulder and squeezed firmly. His opposite hand cupped Micah’s cheek and he smiled mysteriously. “How are we going to proceed with this, Ezra?” He bypassed the mention of Ladon entirely. “I can remove you from the academy. I can make you a nice wing here at the palace to keep you occupied for days on end. _Alternatively,_ I can give you time. You may remain attending the academy. You do not have to make any sort of pledge to the crown.”

A slow, answering smile stretched Micah’s lips. Calder could never hold him here, at the palace. But let the man think as much.

He would play it Calder’s way. “What do you want in return for time?” he inquired.

“A few public appearances at my side.” Calder removed his hand from Micah’s cheek with intentional slowness. “And for you to appear relatively _tame_ in public. At least be aware of your crowned status and your reputation.” The hand on his shoulder did not relent until Micah nodded once. “There must be things you are passionate about, things you’d like to change in this empire.” Calder cocked his head to the side, analyzing Micah. “Surely the idea of being a pretty face on display becomes tolerable once you realize the power you possess.”

“If I was truly invested in playing the part, I’d change a great deal of things.”

Calder laughed once. “I’m sure you would. I look forward to hearing your ideas.”

Micah remained unimpressed with his diplomatic answer. “Ideas that need to be passed and approved through the Royal Council first.”

His father walked back to his throne, his long, blond hair cascading down his back. “You will soon realize that you can make anything happen, Ezra. Whether it be a popular or unpopular idea.” He walked up the dais and sat on his throne.

Upon his perch, he appeared like an animated doll.

Unthreatening, coldly handsome, and guiltless.

A decorated face to represent the kingdom.

In reality, however, Calder ruled the kingdom with tight control. The man held power and secrets Micah did not truly comprehend just yet.

Blue eyes softened as they gazed down at Micah. “I am very pleased to see you returned to me, my son. I look forward to getting to know more about you. I wish you a good term at the academy.”

It was a dismissal if Micah ever heard one. He merely inclined his head and retreated toward his bag. As soon as he picked up his satchel, he noted the ridiculous weightlessness. The books were gone.

He laughed, disbelieving.

“If ever Josiah grows too difficult to handle, I will remove him from the situation.”

Micah didn’t know if Calder possessed a sixth sense, or that he’d seen Josiah extract the books earlier from his bag.

No matter.

“I can handle Josiah.” Micah pressed a palm against the heavy-set doors, pausing. Considering. He turned back to Calder. “Though I appreciate the offer.”

Micah exited quickly.

Ember’s strings had completely loosened their hold on him, only for Calder’s strings to take their place, ghosting across his flesh with the barest touch of forewarning. It was an intuition that things would never be the same. Calder said he’d give Micah space and time, but those were sugarcoated words for prepping him for the throne.

Micah truly didn’t know what to feel about accepting the crown.

It would bring power, certainly, but it would also bring constant attention.

He bypassed the onlookers who lingered outside the throne room as quickly as possible. His eyes remained forward, diverted, having no interest in satisfying their curiosity. After all, Calder _did_ give him reprieve from prince-like duties until he was _ready._ Exiting the front doors of the palace, he spied Sachiel standing outside the carriage, waiting with a curious gleam in his eye.

“Your Highness,” he greeted with a sarcastic and taunting bow. “Your carriage awaits.”

Micah’s stare was lethal. If he didn’t know what— _who—_ waited for him inside the carriage, he would have put Sachiel in his place. As it was, he entered the dark carriage readily, head first as he faced off against Josiah.

“Where are they?” Micah demanded, slamming the door on Sachiel’s face.

Josiah inclined idly against the cushioned seat of the carriage and merely motioned to the seat next to Micah. There, directly to his left, sat all three books. Unharmed and fully intact.

“A very intriguing subject,” Josiah commented casually. “Not quite interesting enough for me during my studies, but I imagine it holds some sort of personal sentiment for you. I encourage your readings on the subject.”

Micah stared, his features schooled against his suspicion. “It’s Noir Magic,” he said. “You vehemently warned me against it.”

“This is a particular branch of Noir Magic that is…” Josiah paused, his eyes falling onto the trio of texts. “Cleaner than most.”

Demonology.

Exorcism.

Micah wanted to delve into the subject after his skepticism regarding daemons. No matter how Micah looked at things, Josiah was not human. He couldn’t be. Master Idris and the Magi had their reasons for proclaiming Josiah a creature. For his own frame of mind, Micah wanted to thoroughly digest the subject. 

Only, Josiah didn’t seem threatened nor upset with the decision. Micah would not ask the man for answers any longer. He’d find out himself. He’d identify if Josiah were a human or a daemon by the end of term.

“You’re still upset with me,” Josiah observed.

“Upset,” Micah tasted the word, noting the bitterness it left on his tongue. “Upset would mean I have occurrences of uncontrollable anger or bouts of frustration. I feel nothing but the acceptance of what you did and how that impacts our future relationship.”

“A relationship you consider shattered.”

He reiterated the words Micah used before the end of term. The very last words Micah spoke to him before today. He was pleased he’d made such an impact that Josiah brought it up in conversation.

Micah remained silent. Josiah already knew the answer.

“Just because something shatters does not mean it falls apart,” the man said quietly. His eyes flashed like dying embers of a fire. “It remains imperfect, yet still in place.”

“In place, but desperately struggling to remain intact when even the slightest disruption comes around to shake the pieces loose.” Micah leaned against the seat and watched the man across from him. “Imperfect, yet unstable.”

Josiah’s teeth flashed and Micah felt his pulse race satisfyingly at the depravity. “I prefer imperfect and unstable to seamless and predictable.”

“I don’t trust you,” Micah informed abruptly.

“Nor should you have any reason to,” Josiah countered. “Though it is challenging for you to accept, your safety is my most pressing priority.”

“Amidst teaching me hard and cruel life-lessons.”  

Josiah leaned forward suddenly, his eyes bright. “Tell me you would have preferred it any other way. That you would have wanted to grow up within those glass walls, waited on hand and foot, praised at how pretty you were with your innocent blue eyes. How you would save the kingdom with just a mere smile.”

Micah repressed the urge to smirk.

He wanted to find fault in Josiah’s role in his childhood, but he couldn’t. Granted there was a bitterness. A sense of sorrow of what _could have been._ Yet, the man had a valid premonition that Micah would have grown up spoiled. Egoistic. Micah reluctantly acknowledged the truth in those words. He’d be sheltered, hardly prepared for the situation he found himself in. He would _never_ give the man any credit for that, however. Josiah had other things to answer for, mainly Idris and Keegan.

“I didn’t know you found me pretty,” Micah said instead.

As much as the carriage allowed, Josiah rose from his position and advanced. His proximity brought forth an air of decadence and dark excitement. Micah stared up at the man defiantly, refusing to acknowledge the pleasant tightening in his lower stomach. The antagonistic feelings he felt for the man only heightened his pleasure.

He hated him. Wanted him.

Josiah was all-consuming in his demand to infiltrate every aspect of Micah’s life.

Looming above Micah, Josiah hovered mere inches from his face. A hand curled around Micah’s throat, covering the bruises with his own claim. “Pretty?” the man questioned huskily, his lips so close to Micah’s own. “No. I find you sensual.”

Micah stiffened, feeling his cock stir and _immensely_ despising Josiah for it. He remained still and stubborn under the man, refusing to close the agonizingly small gap between them. He did not back away either, intent to meet the orange gaze with tenacious boldness. The fingers around his neck tightened, Josiah’s own excitement evident.

The Igni king released a hissing breath of frustration before he loosened his hold and dropped his gaze to Micah’s neck. The focused sensuality fell way to focused determination. A slight tingling around his throat informed Micah that Josiah was trying to…

_Heal him?_

He made a noise of surprise as Josiah then pressed his fingers near the open wound at his hairline. The dull throb of pain slowly eased and cooled, no longer an irritant.

 _Impossible_.

Noir Users were incapable of healing. Healer Destan said it went against their very nature of black magic. Josiah even admitted he could not heal. Yet, it appeared as if he had recently learned. The very notion of Josiah learning something just for Micah’s benefit brought forth implications he did not want to consider right now.

Josiah’s fingers suddenly found his throat again and _squeezed_.

The man forced Micah’s head back until it connected harshly with the carriage wall. He applied enough pressure around the throat that it made breathing difficult, but not hard enough to leave bruises.

Josiah leered, crowding him.

“I’m the only one who gets to mark you.”  

Micah breathed slowly, steadily, refusing to gasp for air. Curling his fingers around the man’s wrist, he dug his nails into the skin, pleased when Josiah hissed. The man pressed his lips against Micah’s ear before finding his earlobe with his teeth. Carelessly, he bit down, inspiring a moan from Micah.

“I will _consume_ you.”

The hand around his throat abruptly vanished and Josiah exited the carriage, bringing the hazy delusions and heavy debauchery with him. Micah leaned forward and snarled angrily into his hands, feeling his cock strain against his trousers. He raked his fingernails through his scalp, frustrated.

The man wanted to consume him.

Josiah didn’t realize he’d already accomplished that feat.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Maybe* I can get the third chapter up sometime this weekend or (early) next week!


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured, as this was more of a 'filler chapter', a double update couldn't hurt this weekend. =)

**3\. Chapter Three**

 

“It appears, during your sabbatical, your senses have dulled.” 

Micah scoffed as he blocked the overhead strike. “And yet, you still can’t drop me. I see your own reflexes have slowed during my absence. Let us hope it does not have to do with age.” He pivoted and dragged his foot back, easily blocking the man’s relentless attacks.

“Age? I’m in my prime, _boy_.” Sachiel delivered a rather vicious head assault that Micah dodged. “I simply found myself without a worthy opponent. And out of practice.” He slammed his staff across Micah’s knees and then whirled around to thrust the butt of the staff into Micah’s tailbone. Kicking the younger man’s legs out from under him, Sachiel inhaled his victory, entirely out of breath from the duel.

Micah slowly rose from the ground, acknowledging his loss with a stiff bow.

Sachiel watched Micah readjust his uniform, his expression clouding over with skepticism. “You have yet to show me that _orgasmic_ side you demonstrated at the festival’s duel.” He repositioned his hair over his shoulder with a careful swipe of his hand. “Which leads me to believe you only push yourself when you feel threatened.”

Orgasmic.

Micah tried to withhold a snort—a very unbecoming gesture if Calder had anything to say about it—yet it slipped out anyway. “When my adrenaline is high, I seem to do better, yes.”

“Do I not arouse your adrenaline, Prince Ezra?” Sachiel inquired with far too much implication. If his tone did not give away his less than unadulterated sentiments, his hooded eyes surely spoke volumes. “Perhaps it is time for Uncle Josiah to take over your training, hmm? However, I do wonder how much training you will actually accomplish alone together.”

Micah offered the man a look of indifference.

“You don’t deny it,” Sachiel observed, smirking.

“What is there to deny? I want to learn how to fight with a level head,” Micah said. “If Josiah were to take over my lessons, I’d lose my composure far too often.”

“Admitting a weakness?”

“Admitting a truth.”

Sachiel touched his lips with his fingers, as if to prevent a smile. “I was told, by Lord Josiah, to inform him when you reached a plateau in your training.”

“I’ll reach a plateau when I can get you on the floor each time.”

The council member did not appear convinced. He made his way off the padded floor and toward his boots. “Your Unda form is impressive. Not quite as flawless as your Igni form, though that is to be expected. You’ve spent years training under Idris.” Sachiel looked pointedly at Micah upon mention of Idris before lowering himself on the bench. “You are more of an Unda warrior. It comes natural to you. If you can truly and successfully execute each form in combat, as you did during the festival, you will be unstoppable.”

Micah heard what Sachiel was saying, yet he did not appreciate the thought of being in a _rut._ “I take it we’re finished for the day?”  

“Alas, I am needed at the palace.”

Feeling unsatisfied with the short training session, Micah remained standing on the mat, restlessly itching for a spar partner. With his back turned toward Sachiel, he lazily twirled the weapon, gazing forlornly across the training arena.

“Were you the one to tell Calder about me?”

Though he faced away from Sachiel, he was aware of the man’s sharp focus upon his blasé inquiry.

“No.” A pause. “Yes and no. Calder is a very smart man. He saw you using your left hand faultlessly during the duel. He drew the necessary deductions and inquired after the members of Keegan Flint’s team. That’s when he discovered a certain biracial captain with unmatched swordsmanship abilities. The academy keeps records of all the cadets.”

“And he’s been after you for more information.”

“Naturally.”

“I am surprised he tolerated you keeping my identity secret for so long.” Micah glanced slyly at Sachiel from over his shoulder. “You knew since term began.”

Sachiel, having finished lacing his boots, stood from the bench. “My loyalty is to the crown,” the man informed. “I have never specified a _particular_ monarch. Calder knows I was playing favorites with you. He has no qualms over my clandestineness.”

“So long as it doesn’t happen again, I’m sure.”

The blond-haired man remained silent as he observed Micah.

Lowering his staff to his side, Micah turned around to face the man fully. He did not recognize that look. Whatever it was, it appeared rather subdued for Sachiel. “What is it?”

“As the whispers of your presence grow louder, so do the sentiments of the parties receiving said information.” Sachiel frowned deeply. “It is _offensive_ to hear some of the things they say about your presence at the capital.”

“Oh?” Micah inquired, intrigued. He walked towards the end of the padded floor and stopped in front of Sachiel. He could only imagine the offensive insults that spewed from the mouths of others. “You mean to tell me they won’t all grovel at my feet?” He quirked a sarcastic brow. “You may consider that indecent, Sachiel, but I would gladly welcome a challenge.”

“It may be a larger challenge than you anticipate.”

“I did not anticipate _anything_ ,” Micah countered darkly. “This was not my choice.”

Sachiel smiled unkindly. “You are better than that.” At Micah’s blank expression, Sachiel closed the distance between them. He touched Micah’s chin, making certain he had the younger man’s attention. “Do not use the self-pitying angle. Ever.”

“I did not—”

“You are too good to protest the unfairness of your connection to the crown. Yes, you had no choice, but it is the life you were given. Many individuals would kill for your position, no? So take it and shoulder it with pride.”  

Micah had no response. He hadn’t intended for his actions or words to come across as self-pitying, though Sachiel would never steer him wrong by pointing out his flaws. Many people salivated at the thought of the crown, yes, but Micah wasn’t one of them. Yet, his birthright demanded his submission to the throne. 

“Your enemies will pounce readily on your defeatism attitude. Do not give them the satisfaction.” Sachiel tapped his chin smartly before turning away.

“Is there someone you are talking about in particular?” Micah asked his turned back. “A certain noble who is already permitted to wear his hair in braids and cloak himself in royal purple? Yet, as long as I live, his fingers will never touch that crown.”

Sachiel stopped short at the mention of Ladon. “Ladon will no longer be acknowledged as the heir or the prince unless something happens to _you._ ” The man turned and looked at Micah from over his shoulder. “After fifteen years believing he would take his father’s place, it is an extremely large adjustment for him to accept his disposability. Do not automatically presume he is an enemy of yours, Ezra.”

“You are displeased,” Micah observed, stiffening. He hadn’t thought he’d done anything particularly damning today. Evidently, he did enough to warrant Sachiel’s immediate displeasure. Was it because of his remark about Ladon?

“I am not displeased with you.” Sachiel faced Micah, his expression remaining uncharacteristically serious. “I am worried about you. I want you to stop treating this as if it were a game. Your father and uncle may prefer to play on the knife’s edge, but you do not have the same luxury as they do. Many people do not appreciate you, Ezra, simply because you _are_ biracial. Simply because you _do_ represent change.”

It was somewhat laughable that Sachiel, of all people, cautioned him about treating things seriously. 

“I’m not going to take it too seriously, either, Sachiel. It is not in my nature.”

“It’s also not in your nature to trust easily,” he observed quietly. “The one you trusted the most recently passed away in a questionable accident last term.”

Micah’s stomach tightened at the mention of Keegan.

“Nonetheless,” the man pressed onward. “When you feel as if you’re surrounded by enemies, know you have an ally in me. I may be a bit unconventional in my show of loyalty, but I truly have my interests invested in _you._ ” He turned to leave before stopping abruptly. “Moreover, I will have to inform Lord Josiah of your progress. Be aware things may change in terms of your training.”

Micah watched the man exit, once again feeling the ghostly hands on his shoulders.

He closed his eyes.

_“If there is one thing I learned by coming to the capital, Micah, it’s that this is a very dark world. I want you to know that there’s at least one person who is always looking out for your best interests.”_

Opening his eyes, he gazed at the empty arena, suddenly feeling very small and alone.

“Keegan.” He tested the name on his tongue, a name that had once felt so familiar, now foreign from the lack of use. He could have used Keegan’s presence right about now.  “I never did thank you…”

*** * * ***

 

It turned out Idris was partially correct about daemons.

For not being an active practitioner in sorcery, he certainly had impressive general knowledge about his supposed enemy, daemon-Josiah. For over half the day, Micah threw himself in his new books. He didn’t feel quite so defiant after Josiah gave him his blessing to learn demonology. Conversely, he couldn’t help but notice the unnerving shift of atmosphere when he delved into the information.

The books themselves were poetic cesspools of debauched descriptions and explicit drawings. Often times, Micah found his eyes glazed over as he consumed the material.

He was a skeptic.

A skeptic of gods, daemons, ghosts, and anything in between. Judging by the insinuations inside these texts, there were a great deal of ‘anything in between’. There were creatures mentioned Micah was not familiar with, nor aware people actually _believed_ in. Vampires? Trolls? Fairies? _Mermaids?_

It was utterly ludicrous and nonsensical. Each time Micah glossed over a mention of another mystical creature, his skepticism grew further as did his doubt. Was he wasting his time by studying daemons and exorcism? Was this all fable?

Did Keegan truly die from something that did not exist?

If daemons did not exist, the Noir Users had no reason to be there that night. They had no reason to drag Micah and Keegan into their vengeance against Josiah. If Josiah nearly destroyed the entire Magi population, they should have gone about their vengeance another way. Micah had nothing to do with what happened sixteen years ago. Keegan hadn’t… he’d just been lure. An innocent bystander that even Master Idris argued against his unnecessary death.  

Despite his skepticism over the subject of daemons, he had continued reading. At least, he figured, the more he read, the more he could understand his enemies—the Noir Users. Fortunately, the mention of other creatures was not a prevalent topic in the reading, serving little to no reminders of his cynicism.

Whether it be fable or fiction, the subject of daemons was rather enthralling.

As Idris mentioned, gods created daemons for the sole purpose of protecting and shepherding mortals. Between the three texts, however, there were disparities of how daemons came into existence.

Two texts argued the gods created daemons for forced servitude and menial tasks. The other text argued that the daemons were once celebrated mortals honored with great powers after their deaths. No matter their origins, daemons were tasked with guiding mortals through the extent of their lifetime. An invisible guardian, of sorts.

Until the daemons fell.

_Fell._

Such a subjective term, Micah mused later that afternoon as he walked down the corridor and towards his team’s quarters. Daemons had not literally fallen, but they did lose their deity status. The only thing that remained intact were their powers, _dulled_ powers.  

The texts did not go into detail of why the daemons fell, but they did stress the level of corruption the daemons possessed after the fall. When daemons did not work behind the scenes, they possessed hosts to corrupt humanity. Consuming souls aside, their intentions were to increase their numbers by turning as many mortals into daemons as possible.

That was as far as Micah got before realizing it was near lunchtime.

By now, his team would be at the academy.

Securing his schoolbag around his shoulder, Micah pushed open the door to their quarters, narrowing his eyes at the sight before him.

His teammates all froze upon his arrival.

The silence was deafening as he walked inside and casually discarded his bag at the foot of his bed. His left eyebrow twitched and he did nothing to hide his irritation. “ _Yes_?” he inquired, sensing their stares.

“Your highness, your majesty, your _grace_ , my _prince_!” Viktor greeted zealously as he fell to his knees. He bowed his head, but not before Micah caught sight of his smirk. “It is a very humbling and awe-inspiring opportunity to work under your decree.”  

“Viktor.” Micah sighed.

They all watched him with wide, incredulous eyes as they gauged his reaction. Kai was the exception as he continued to unpack a few articles of clothing and set aside his books. Judging from his petulant frown and distant eyes, the other man appeared rather withdrawn from the situation. Micah figured it had something to do with his father.

“To know, I’ve been trying to seduce the royal prince…”

“Seduce?” Micah repeated dryly, turning back to Viktor with unrestrained humor. “Is that what you’d call it?”

At his inquiry, the atmosphere seemed to lighten. They all appeared to relax and their gazes turned less cautious and more disbelieving. Stepping away from his bed, he nodded. He understood their feelings on the subject, though he wouldn’t apologize. He hadn’t trusted any of them with his parentage. Not even Keegan.

“I’m sure you’re upset. All of you.”

His attention landed on Aiden, who lingered uncertainly behind Viktor. The boy’s eyes were comically wide as he observed Micah, clearly having just heard the news.

It made sense, after all.

The news of the prince’s whereabouts started within the palace walls. It would take a few weeks, a few months, for news to reach the outer regions. Considering Aiden went home immediately after term, to Region 10, he would have just missed the gossip. It had been Micah’s intention to tell everyone about his parentage after term break. He hadn’t anticipated Calder releasing his identity or the noble’s loose lips.

It was silly to overlook such a possibility.  

He should have expected it.

“Why do you think we would be upset?” Talia asked quietly. “Surprised and… speechless, yes, but not upset. I’m sure there is a lot you can’t tell us. I think most of us are adults and can understand that things aren’t always as simple as we may perceive them to be.”

Cain nodded supportively next to her.

“Besides, you technically didn’t lie to us.” Viktor climbed back to his feet. “You were upfront about your mixed heritage _and_ half-brother, just not… the names of your parents. Or… half-brother. But Varuna, Mic—Prince? Ezra! It took me _weeks_ to come down from this revelation! You have no idea how giddy I was! I made sure everyone in my family knew that _I_ knew Prince Ezra!”

“Please, just call me Micah.”

“But—”

“Your ice Element suddenly makes sense. All of it does,” Cain muttered, cutting Viktor off. “It makes me wonder if two separate Elementals would conceive a similar child.”

“And your immunity… we saw the flames ghost across you as if you were not there during our first mission.” Talia tilted her head. “Is that the same with water Elements? Earth? Wind?”

Micah slammed the lid of his trunk closed and faced the team. “It is the same against water Elementals. I don’t know about earth or wind, though I highly doubt it. Whatever I inherited from my parents, it was a direct result of them being a fire and water Elemental. I don’t anticipate I’d have the same immunity against earth and wind.”

“Did Keegan know?” Aiden suddenly asked. “Is that why he was killed?”

The room grew insufferably silent.

Kai turned around and pinned Aiden with a blank expression, though his eyes burned with aversion. “Why would you ask that?”

“Keegan knew,” Micah intervened before the situation escalated. “But that wasn’t what killed him.” He exhaled bitterly. “I told you before term ended. Keegan put his trust in a man who was teaching him how to wield the sword. It turned out that Idris had connections to the Magi. Keegan was in the wrong place at the wrong time in their efforts to attack Lord Josiah.”  

He didn’t tell them about daemons or the rune, but he figured the information he did divulge was more than enough.

“You were there, though,” Aiden pressed. “You were gone that night.”

The rest of the team seemed distraught over Aiden’s sheer audacity, though they did not protest against the questioning. How could they? Their curiosity was painfully palpable. Micah subjected them long enough to silence and ambiguity.

It was time to quench their thirst.

“I watched him die,” Micah confessed as he approached Aiden. “I watched the only man I have ever trusted get stabbed through the chest. The last person who deserved such an undignified end died in front of me and I could do _nothing_.”

A blink.

He saw Keegan’s body collapse awkwardly to the floor _._

Exhaling, Micah remembered.

_“Kid,” Keegan whispered with pained affection._

Stopping in front of Aiden, he cocked his head to the side. “Is that what you’re asking me, Aiden?” he inquired softly. “If it is, it’s true.”

Aiden spluttered and stepped back, his features paling. “I wasn’t.” He appeared hesitant as he studied Micah’s cold features, pausing over the hard, glacier eyes. “I know you and Keegan were close,” the boy said reluctantly. “I’m not saying you were directly responsible for his death, but I—we—just needed to _know_.”

“I don’t fault any of you for needing to ‘just know’.” Micah looked over his shoulder, subconsciously aware of Aiden shifting away. “I should have told you sooner.”

“You should have,” Talia agreed. “It’s clearly eating you up.”

“As it should,” he agreed.

“Micah,” she admonished. “If you could have prevented his death, you would have. We know you’re not one to stand by idly and watch.”

Talia’s reassurances had an opposite effect of what she had likely intended. He merely shook his head, refusing to say more only to hear _more_ reassurances. He was partially responsible for Keegan’s death. Even partial responsibility felt like a crushing weight of guilt.

“I have something for you.” Cain shifted over to his trunk and rummaged through his things. “I gave the others theirs.”

The large, brute-like Unda man straightened and cradled an object close to his chest as if it were precious. He approached Micah and held out his palms. A long, white braid lay cupped in his hands, a symbol of purity.

Loss.

“Though black is the standard color of mourning, we already have a black braid to represent Wayde. I thought Keegan should be signified some other way. His own way.”

Micah stared at the offering, angry that such a silly piece of thread could symbolize and embody Keegan’s worth. He tempered his immediate reaction, however, and glanced at his team’s swords. Only Kai had his sword strapped across his back. Two braids of black and white hung around the hilt of his sword, entwining together. Two lives lost and remembered with honor. They all had lost someone. Keegan was just as much their friend as his.

Micah turned back and accepted the braid. “Did you make this yourself?” He looked pointedly at Cain’s large hands. Though he tried, he could not envision Cain sitting down, hunching over thread as he braided mourning ribbons. 

“I did.”

Micah closed his fingers over the white ribbon and looked the man in the eye. “Hopefully you’ll never need to make another one again.”

A soft, agreeing smile settled across the man’s lips.

“He doesn’t plan to,” Viktor interjected, his high-spirited voice easily dispelling the somberness in the room. “In fact, he told me he was working on a tunic for you. He hopes you can wear it during your coronation. Something to match your eyes, he said.”

Cain turned and looked down at Viktor, his expression never once altering from the impassive stare. “I don’t knit tunics.” 

Micah looked between Viktor and Cain, exasperated at Viktor’s awkward fumbling to lighten the mood.

“But you braid,” Viktor tried again. “Will you braid Micah’s hair now that he’s royalty?”

Cain turned back to Micah, his attention falling on his short, wavy locks.

There would never be any braids in Micah’s hair.

_Ever_.

“Once it grows, of course.” Viktor appraised a dour-looking Kai. “Although, now that Kai followed our trend, an _Edlen_ of all people _,_ I really think its due time for a haircut, Cain. Aiden.” The boy ran a hand through his disorderly short hair. “It will catch on quickly now that the prince sports such a fashionable, trendy style. Although, I’m pretty sure I had this haircut first. Just saying.”

Aiden ran a self-conscious hand through his own hair, considering the length.

“What do you reckon they will do with Micah to display his royalty status?” Viktor continued prattling. The boy clearly sensed the melancholy in the air, aimed to obliviate it, and replace it with… something else. “Dress him in all purple? Put amethysts in his hair?”

“It’s time for lunch,” Micah interrupted.

“Thank _Varuna_ ,” Kai muttered as he bypassed Viktor. “I forgot how utterly exhausting he was to be around.”

Viktor forcibly injected himself between Micah and Kai. The other three fell at their heels as they made their way to the dining hall. There were a few students mulling around the residence corridors, hurrying to discard their personal belongings in their team’s quarters before heading to lunch.

Most eyes did not linger long on Micah. Some lingered far longer than appropriate. The closer they approached the dining room, the more the halls populated. The whispers spread and the eyes lingered. As Sachiel already warned Micah, there were obvious expressions of disdain and contempt. Micah made sure to meet those particular stares with his own. He was hardly deterred, hardly bothered.

Far more amused.

Oddly enough, the stares that unnerved him the most were the ones filled with undeserving worshipping and awe. They watched his every step with single-minded intensity and intrigue. He thought back to Josiah’s proclamation that Micah would have turned out entitled if he’d grown up as Ezra, the royal heir. Though he wanted to find fault in the man’s decision to let Ember take him away, he couldn’t.

It was painfully true. Excruciatingly obvious.

The people around Ezra would have molded him into something unrecognizable, a reversed image of the man he was today.

Micah walked down the corridor with his silent team. As he endured the attention, he realized that race did not play a role on how they regarded him. Strangely enough, even some Igni cadets appeared unhappy with his presence while some Unda cadets seemed entrapped.

Just up ahead, a figure pried himself away from a group of nobles. “It’s surprising to see King Calder has permitted you to fly free.” The three bars on his collar indicated him a third year cadet, yet, what gave away his identity was the platinum-blond braid over his shoulder. Sapphire eyes regarded Micah, raking down to his feet and refocusing on his face. “ _Ezra_.”

Micah imagined he’d encounter Ladon eventually, but he hadn’t anticipated their first interaction to be so cliché. Curious onlookers filled the hallways, anticipated gossipers loitered, and a group of allies backed each contender.

“Ladon,” Micah responded with equal detachment.

Calder’s son was almost a year younger than Micah, but he was broader in the shoulders like their father. While they were the same height, Micah was far lither, a trait he inherited from his Igni blood. 

“I remember you as the first-year cadet who humiliated Kai Edlen during the trials.” Ladon’s attention flickered briefly towards Kai. “A virtual unknown scholarship student who turned out to be the royal heir. Imagine that.”

“I’m glad I could make an impression,” Micah said dryly.

Ladon looked back to Micah. “You made more of an impression during the festival when you fought for Keegan Flint.” He blinked. “So sorry for your loss, by the way.” He sounded anything but.

“Greatly appreciated.”

Micah’s attention fell on the group of nobles at Ladon’s back, trying to memorize their faces. He paused on Nereus Edlen, Kai’s hot-tempered and vile cousin. The young man stared back at Micah, his expression dark, concentrated. In fact, all the nobles behind Ladon analyzed Micah as if studying the habits of their next prey. Instead of open hostility, they practiced quiet and patient intimidation.

Something inside Micah roused at the challenge.

He smiled.

“I would have thought Calder would keep you at the palace,” Ladon said, uninterested in the game Micah was playing with the nobles at his back. “Considering the animosity spreading across the capital at your sudden presence, I assumed your protection was more important than your contentment.”

“Fortunately, the prince has enough people watching his back,” Kai spoke up.

“Oh yes, what a reliable bunch you are,” Landon whispered. He looked at Kai. “Someone who’d betray at the right price.” He looked at Talia. “One who is self-serving?” Cain. “Someone who could not possibly think for himself without his mommy.” Finally, Viktor. “And someone who would stand by you merely for the status.”

“Well, it’s a good thing he has me then,” Aiden declared vehemently.

“In a world dominated by Unda nobles, your assurance means nothing.”

“Yet it means everything to me,” Micah defended quietly. “Your concern over my safety is touching, truly, yet it is not warranted.”

“On the contrary,” Ladon disputed. “While you’re informally known as the royal heir, it’s not official until that crown touches your head. Until that time, many deem you a mere obstacle in _my_ path to the throne.”

Kai bumped into Micah as he aggressively faced off against Ladon. “That is a _threat_ to royalty!” the man accused hotly. “He has higher standing than you, and he doesn’t need something on his head to prove it. We all know _what_ your mother is.”    

“And yet, I have a higher standing than _you_ ,” Ladon countered with calm. “Who are you going to report me to, Edlen? My father? Your father? I am merely stating a fact for Ezra. I know you’d never tell him the cruel truth behind court.”

There was something about Ladon’s tone and expression, Micah surmised as he scrutinized his half-brother. Ladon’s words may have been cruel and particularly harsh, yet Micah could not fathom why he felt as if Ladon were truly trying to warn him. Granted, the bastard prince knew next to nothing about Micah’s team, but he realized Ladon’s warning was truly that. A warning.

Not a threat. Not means to hurt.

Nonetheless, it did not reign in Kai’s fierce animosity. “No, I’d be upfront with him and tell him the court is decidedly split in half over his presence, not entirely skewered as you’re suggesting,” Kai said. “Next time I hear another threat towards him, I _will_ report it. To the king.”  

Without another word, Kai brushed by Ladon and the other nobles before continuing to the dining hall.

Micah watched him retreat, smiling thinly as he turned back to Ladon. “I very much approve of having _that_ at my back.”

He followed Kai, musing at the man’s fervent tirade.

The other man’s insistence to defend him did not offend Micah. No. He was more inclined to scrutinize Kai’s obvious and tangible anger. As the young man scooped food onto his plate, he did so violently and with a palpable air of disquiet and ire. The rest of the team was silent as they retrieved their food and settled near a secluded table.

As Micah sat with the others, he looked at each member of the team, noting the unease. He supposed he had to say something. “That won’t be the last confrontation.” He broke the silence. “And it won’t be the cruelest. Because you are a part of my team, you’ll be just as much a target as I am. It’s imperative you recognize what side you want to be on and decide soon.”

“What do you mean?” Aiden asked. “You mean your side or Ladon’s side?”

“The side who receives threats or the side that remains blissfully ignorant and neutral.” Micah watched as Aiden looked down at his plate. “I wouldn’t fault any of you if you decided to keep your nose out of this.”

Kai scoffed. “You’re ridiculous, Egan.” All eyes turned to the man as he took a rather large, frustrated bite from his meat pie. “You’re giving them the choice to be cowards. That’s what it comes down to, isn’t it?” Kai raised his eyebrows mockingly. “You _are_ the future king. I don’t care if you haven’t accepted this fact or not, it still doesn’t change its inevitability.”

“Forced loyalty is not true loyalty,” Micah countered. “I would rather them step aside and remain inactive versus feebly standing by my side.”

“Remaining inactive is dangerous. It invites unsolicited bribery and temptations.”

“Those briberies and temptations do not stop once someone picks a side,” Micah said. “In fact, I’d say they pose more of a threat if one’s loyalty is forced and reluctantly decided rather than freely given.”

Kai pressed his lips together.

He knew Micah was right.

“Why are you so angry?” Micah inquired. Something about the other man’s resentment set his teeth on edge. “Is it because you reluctantly chose to stand by me? If your decision makes you this bitter, perhaps it wasn’t the best choice.”

Kai’s eyes turned steely and he deliberately set down his fork. He stood up with a tense slowness. “My loyalty to you was freely given,” he stated quietly. “Despite the several influences trying to persuade me otherwise, I chose _you_ , yet you cannot even appreciate the true extent of my sacrifice because of your lack of confidence and your flippant attitude on such a serious situation.”

Abandoning his lunch, Kai retreated out of the dining hall.

Micah stared after him, the fork in his hand feeling unnaturally heavy.

“He is an Edlen. They are proud and influential aristocrats. They consider their allegiance to be the highest form of flattery. So for you to question it, he feels as if it’s an insult.” Surprisingly, Cain spoke up. “I imagine most his anger comes from the realization that so many people are treating you with disrespect. He knows you will be crowned and he finds it insulting people want to prevent that.”

Cain pressed his fork against his potatoes and considered the white, fleshy starch. “Ever since he has chosen to merge our teams together, he’s been ostracized. It’s gotten worse, especially after he disappeared over term.”

So Kai really had accompanied him during break partly out of avoidance. Micah didn’t know the extent of Kai’s struggles. How could he when the other man never spoke of it? It was evident enough in his behavior that things were not right.

He gave Cain his full attention. 

“Then what can be done to remedy his situation?” Micah asked the other man.

Cain looked to Viktor and Talia, both high nobles, both relatively naïve as they shrugged their shoulders to his silent inquiry. It appeared as if Cain’s family had a higher standing in court, his mother especially if Micah observed the situation accurately.

“Well,” Cain started looking hesitantly at Micah.

“Yes?” he drawled, narrowing his eyes. “You don’t need to be reserved. I think I can handle it.”

“It may have seemed like a good idea at the time, and it _is_ your nature to defend yourself with sarcasm. Quite often, too.”

“But.”

“But, disrespecting Seaton Edlen when you arrived back at the capital just made the situation worse,” Cain admitted. “The easiest way to alleviate Kai’s stress is to make an ally with his father. It works out for both you _and_ Kai.”

Micah exhaled slowly.

Frustrated.

He suddenly comprehended the extent of what Sachiel meant when the man said not to treat this as a game. While it was easy to pretend he was in this alone with only Calder and Josiah, his actions also affected those around him. For Calder and Josiah, they hardly cared about that fact. Yet, as much as Micah loathed to admit it at times, he’d grown fond of his team. Very much so.

“Seaton is a difficult man to get along with, but not nearly as difficult as his brother, Muriel. I—I can help you,” Cain offered. “My mother and father would like to meet you. They usually prefer to get to know someone before backing them.”

Next to Cain, Viktor nodded consciously, looking pointedly at Micah. Judging from the boy’s reaction, Cain’s invitation was something he should accept with honor. It just reinforced Micah’s suspicions that Cain’s family had a high standing amongst nobility. 

“I would be honored to meet their acquaintance.”

Cain set down his fork much like Kai had earlier. “We will all have to sacrifice something by turning our backs on the more outspoken nobles, Micah. I just hope you’re as serious about this as we are.” And just like that, the boy followed Kai’s earlier steps out the dining hall.

Micah sat, stunned.

Aside from the fact that he’d never heard Cain speak so much in one sitting, he hadn’t considered the boy held so much political savviness with his quiet and passive behavior. The other man’s parting words truly got under his skin, scratching at something Micah could not truly comprehend at this point.

It was undeniably clear that he’d gotten himself into something large.

Far larger than he’d anticipated than just shouldering Calder’s and Josiah’s proximity;

_Politics_.

 

 


	4. Chapter Four

**4\. Chapter Four**

 

There would be people who would hail him ashore with false pretenses of friendly harbor and secure passageway. They had their own intentions, however. Sometimes those intentions would prove more treacherous than braving the harsh, unforgiving waters.

Micah felt as if he were treading water in a sea of blood-sucking politicians.

Mind games between Calder and Josiah intrigued him—excited him—and encouraged him to try to keep up with such an unfamiliar pace, yet when it came to the sheer _mass_ of other individuals waiting to sink their claws into Micah, he grew agitated. Restless. There were too many strangers. Too many moving pieces.

Though he was bred for this, trained for this since a child, he felt as if things were happening far more quickly than anyone anticipated. Yes, he could charm and dance just as well as the rest of them, but it was jarring. He’d went from a captain of a military academy to a royal heir courting a throng of antagonistic and deceiving nobles. Said nobles had the advantage of already knowing so much about him.

He would have liked to bounce ideas off Josiah.

Upon realizing that particular desire, he’d forcibly pushed it away. It was infuriating how much he wanted to despise the man, yet still want to be in the same proximity.

“My mother is eager to have royalty over for dinner.”

“I thought I was on probation until I received her approval.”

Cain hardly seemed deterred at Micah’s sarcasm. “You are. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t royalty. She was preparing all week.” 

Micah wanted to inquire if she truly prepared all week or if the house staff did most the work. He kept his tongue, however, and pulled at the high collar of his attire. The suit belonged to Viktor, as he was the only member on the team with similar stature as Micah.

It wasn’t royalty wear, neither was it perfectly tailored to fit his frame, but it would do just as nicely.

Gradually, they rolled to a stop before a large property. Like all the other residential households situated this close to the palace, it was a three-level row home. Nonetheless, while the design was identical to all the others, it was still extremely large and offered a sense of superiority. Rich, gray stone and majestic granite dressed the exterior. Unmistakably, it was exceptionally expensive.

Cain exited the carriage first, holding the door open for Micah.

As he stepped onto the sidewalk, he assessed the quiet boulevard and the quaint streetlights. From his position, the lights appeared to run off electricity. Certainly a benefit for the inner ring nobles. A part of Micah wanted to go through the property and discover what other inventions lay within the walls of a nobility household. Were they as equipped as the academy? More so?

The front door opened before they even reached the top of the stairs.

“Master Cain.” An Unda man with balding hair bowed low at the waist. His eyes then flickered up at Micah. “Your Highness.” The bow gradually deepened. “Let me show you to the parlor. This way, please.”

Cain and Micah shared a look as they followed the butler.

Designer paper decorated the hallway walls. Micah considered the gold-leaf designs and the muted greys. It had to be the latest fashion, yet as Micah tried to appreciate the décor, he found himself hating it more and more.

Large, ornate tables stood against the walls. On top of the glass countertops lay more glass and crystal sculptures. Quartz and sterling silver mirrors and artwork hung and decorated the walls, appearing as if they all competed to draw the most attention. Micah couldn’t picture Cain growing up here. Or any child, for that matter.

The butler suddenly stopped in front of an open double door, clasping his hands behind his back as he waited patiently for Cain and Micah to enter. Cain hardly hesitated.

“Hello, Mother. Father,” he greeted as he walked into the parlor. He turned to usher Micah inside. “I’d like you to meet Mi— Prince Ezra.”

Stepping into the parlor was a welcoming change from the entryway. It was cozy, with the roaring fire and the muted textures of hardwood and rough stone. It was a man’s room, Micah noted as his eyes bypassed the cigars on display and the assortment of hard, amber liquids on the cart. He then turned to look at the man and woman who stood from their chairs.

“Your Royal Highness, it is an _honor._ ”

He felt like a stranger standing in someone else’s shoes as the two individuals bowed low and curtseyed in complete and perfect submission. _To him_. It was a struggle to regain his senses, though he did so with poise. As he recovered, the reluctance he’d felt in the carriage suddenly disappeared. In its place was an eager sort of thrill as he stepped into his assigned role.

“I am grateful you opened your home for me this evening.” Even if he hadn’t passed their test just yet, he inclined his head just slightly to acknowledge their formal greeting. “I appreciate the invitation.”

She straightened from her deep curtsy first.

Undoubtedly the matriarch of the family.

Micah imagined Cain’s mother being tall and intimidating. Considering Cain’s impressive stature, it was the first image he’d conceived. Only, she was anything but tall and strongly built. She barely reached Micah’s shoulder. Her gown draped her petite figure and hugged her narrow waist. She wore a deep burgundy; a surprising color Micah assumed was a political statement.  

Her long, honey-blonde hair wrapped intricately over her shoulder. Not a single strand of hair showed her age, not even at her temples. Her face, equally ageless and flawless, revealed sharp, yet attractive features.

The woman was beautiful, and judging from the sharp, observing eyes, Micah imagined she was quite intelligent as well.

At her side, her husband towered over her. He had a larger frame that appeared to have softened over the years. Muscle-mass turned into body fat and the height seemed stunted, as if he’d lost a few inches. Clearly, he was years older than her, yet he possessed softer eyes that indicated he might have taken the role as the nurturing figure in the household.

“Mi— Prince Ezra,” Cain started, struggling yet again over his name and title. “I’d like you to meet my mother, Councilwoman Cordelia Abital.” She curtsied again, this time not as low, nor as long. “And my father, Mister Trent Abital.”

A councilwoman.

Micah assumed Cain’s mother was influential, but he hadn’t known she was a member of Calder’s Royal Council.

Ember informed him an Igni woman sat on the Council, but she hadn’t mentioned an Unda woman. Perhaps Cordelia occupied the seat after Ember’s leave from the palace. For a woman to occupy the Council was a very impressive incidence. Because there were so many highbrow aristocrats on the Unda side, _all_ predominantly male, Micah surmised that Cordelia was a very special woman who undoubtedly fought relentlessly to claim a seat.

“It is a pleasure meeting your acquaintances,” Micah responded truthfully, his interest piqued.

Cordelia deliberated him, conspicuously tracing over his features with consideration. Her mouth pressed together with approval. “We are very pleased you could make it tonight.” She placed her hand on her husband’s arm. “Would you care for some wine, Your Highness?”

A man moved in the back of the room, as if trained to go about life unnoticed. In his hands, he cradled a bottle of wine with the label exposed deliberately. 

“Aged since the war ended,” Trent informed matter-of-factly. “We thought it fitting and rather ironic to open it tonight with you here.” He offered a good-hearted chuckle.

Cordelia offered her husband a barely veiled look of exasperation. It was gone before Micah could even consider the reasoning.

“Please, sit, Your Highness.”

She gestured to a winged-back armchair next to the fireplace and Micah graciously followed the suggestion.

The fire was warm, familiar. 

“Please call me—” he paused a breath. “Ezra.”

The evening would get far too long if they kept addressing him as ‘Your Highness’. He watched as the butler poured a glass of wine and handed it to him. Though Micah didn’t care for wine, he accepted it graciously, recognizing it as a gift from his hosts. The liquid was dark—nearly black—and it had a very spicy aroma.

For a moment, Micah considered the glass held delicately in his fingers.

It would be so easy to kill him this way.

A poisoned glass of wine.

The only thing preventing his skepticism from growing into suspicion was the fact it was easily traceable to Cain’s parents. His team knew he was dining here this evening. Calder would easily draw the necessary conclusions. Surely, the Abitals liked their freedom far too much to kill him with poison.

“Cain has told us so much about you,” Cordelia started. She perched herself elegantly on the arm of her husband’s chair and accepted a glass of wine. “Top of your class. Team captain. A very skilled swordsman.”

“I’d say!” Trent added enthusiastically. “Your duel at the festival was impeccable! Absolutely entertaining!”

Cordelia placed a hand on his shoulder as if to calm him. Micah watched the exchange with wary amusement. Cain’s father seemed like a rather laid-back man. Rather informal as well, at least compared to his wife.

“I’ve had an excellent instructor,” he replied modestly.  

“Yes, Councilman Sachiel.” Cordelia said his name with a hard tone, though she smiled to soften her countenance. “We hoped to hire him to instruct Cain as a child, though he was already predisposed with other students.”

“Well, whomever you hired did a good job with Cain.” Micah looked over at his teammate, finding it unsurprising to see the boy nursing his glass of wine with a quiet contemplation. “He’s fearless.”

Cain looked up with surprise and offered a small smile.

Micah never made it a habit to hand out compliments to his team. He wanted them to continue pushing themselves without relying on Micah’s approval. Yet, he suddenly recalled Keegan’s words to him on the train to the Terra Kingdom. The boy had vehemently told Micah everyone, including the team, yearned for his attention, for him to _see_ them. He claimed there was something about Micah that drew others to him. It had unnerved him then.

And it continued to unnerve him now.

“That is very generous of you.” Cordelia inclined her head purposefully towards her husband. “Trent was a warrior during the Unda and Igni war. He taught Cain how to wield a sword.”

“A very decorated warrior, I see.”

Micah gestured across the room where he could see the medals displayed behind the bottles of liquor. It was as if they served as a reminder—an afterthought—until the liquor poured and the memories returned. As if proving his assumptions that those weren’t all happy memories, Trent offered a bitter smile.

“They gave those out to anyone who was unfortunate enough to survive.”

Micah found he very much liked Trent Abital.

“I understand you grew up in the outer regions. Region 20, if I recall correctly?” Cordelia changed the subject swiftly. “You must have a very broad understanding on many aspects of our kingdom.”

Right to the interrogation.

Micah smiled thinly and sipped at his wine. “Yes and no,” he started, putting on his best politician suit with a dash of humility. “I understand the outskirt regions far more than I do the capital and inner ring. It was an adjustment to move back here, but I found interacting with nobility the best way to learn about this culture.”

She approved, though she wasn’t finished. “You are a sympathizer with the outskirt regions, then.”

A _sympathizer_. Micah pondered on the title, a title the nobles were most likely using to describe him as they spoke among their colleagues. He wondered if Cordelia was insinuating he was more inclined to favor the Igni people over the Unda people. In which case, he needed to specify his neutrality to race and emphasis his empathy for the region itself.  

“When it is an everyday occurrence to see a corpse lying out in the open because of hunger, yes, I suppose I would be a sympathizer to the less fortunate.” Micah noticed Cain looking up from the corner of his eye. “I don’t believe the inner ring is educated enough with the ongoing struggle in the outer regions.”

Cordelia watched him steadily.

A mask of infiltrated impassiveness. Until—

“I agree,” she said. “There is hardly any education on the matter, and the opinions on the subject are rather boisterous for being so ignorant.”

Micah inclined his head. “Ignorance often speaks the loudest.” 

Her lips twitched with amusement and she looked at Cain and then her husband. Both of whom did not seem inclined to jump in the conversation anytime soon. “I’ve also been told you have a penance for speaking rather sardonically.” She considered him closely, her blue eyes sparkling with a rapacious gleam. “Even on your best behavior, I can see that particular trait show through.”

“Either you are particularly apt at seeing people or I am an abysmal guest.”

“Very much the former,” Cordelia replied pleasantly.  

Her posture became far more relaxed. Her eyes softened. Her expression turned agreeable. Under Micah’s ministrations, he charmed her. It was remarkable what he could accomplish when he actually _tried_ to play nice with people, he mused.

“It is a pity you need to defend yourself against the nobility here at the capital,” she continued. “They can be rather vicious in their beliefs. Subjected and unproved beliefs, I should say. I hadn’t much of an opinion upon your sudden reappearance, though Cain spoke highly of you. I had to meet you for myself.”

“To want to have firsthand knowledge on the subject you are taking a stance on is an admirable trait,” Micah said. “It is regrettable that more people do not possess that same principle.”

Cain was staring at him as if he did not recognize him.

Cordelia appeared elated.

Trent was out of wine.

Micah gazed at the small family, feeling something _shift_ inside of him. A confidence he did not recognize, nor ever think he’d possessed. His mother trained him for this, though he hadn’t thought he’d actually execute her political dances. He could be like all the other politicians. He could do this.

While he generally liked the family, found them to be fascinating, that did not stop him from feeling empowered for successfully twisting things in his favor. No wonder Calder and Josiah got a thrill for scheming and manipulating people.

“Madame, dinner is ready.”

“Ah.” Cordelia stood from her position with ridiculous grace and everyone hurried to follow suit. Another demonstration of just who was the head of the family. “Cain, why don’t you and your father go along? Prince Ezra and I will be in shortly.”

Cain looked quickly to Micah, gauging his reaction.

Appreciating the boy’s consideration, but more than capable of taking care of himself, Micah simply nodded. He watched as father and son escaped the parlor and quietly shut the doors behind them.

“You certainly look and act the part of royalty,” Cordelia said bluntly as soon as they were alone. She offered Micah another long, sweeping observation, her features hard, considering. “You are very much your father’s son as well as your uncle’s nephew. To imagine, so many generations of royalty meshed in one young man is truly remarkable.”

“With the exception of sitting on a decorated throne, royalty blood does not give me any sort of advantage,” Micah responded carefully, but with intended purpose. “I’ve had to work just as hard as anyone to get where I am today.”

“I recognize that,” she acknowledged swiftly. “It is one thing that will play to your favor in court. You’ve experienced hardships many of us couldn’t even imagine. Most would admire your features, but I find your rough edges most attractive.”

It was then when Micah realized Cordelia Abital did not expect total traditionalism from him.

She wanted something different, something jagged and irregular. 

The woman took a step closer.

Though she had to peer up at him, she managed to appear tall despite. “I don’t know much about you,” Cordelia confessed quietly. “I only have my assumptions, the stories I hear from Cain, and tonight’s performance. I don’t know your political views. But until I find something that I cannot possibly stand by, you have my support. I only have one question for you.”

Micah maintained eye contact, intrigued with the small woman.

“What is my son like, Prince Ezra?”

He expertly covered his surprise. He hadn’t anticipated the question, though he supposed it was a very important test for her. Micah mulled over the question, choosing silence as opposed to long-winded descriptions of one of his cadets. He could go for flattery. He could go for the truth. He decided, in this situation, Cordelia would detect any fabrication of the truth.

“Cain is reserved, unassuming,” Micah finally admitted. “He is a mere afterthought.”

Cordelia’s face revealed absolutely nothing at the harsh words.

“He is an afterthought until he says something surprisingly perceptive. He watches and he observes. He doesn’t fill space with his voice, but rather his presence.” Micah remembered the ribbons. “He is a gentle soul.” He smiled thinly as the warmth slowly bled back into her face. “Because of this, I thought he’d be a terrible warrior,” Micah admitted. “Yet, he was the one who surprised me most during our first mission.”

“How so?” she inquired unemotionally.

“He was willing to strike down the enemy without so much as a hesitation. The others on the team were unable to accomplish that feat. Cain is very protective and loyal to the ones he considers his friends and family.” 

Cordelia stared at him.

Silenced.

She exhaled a bit shakily and offered a tight smile. “A true leader does not count the men who serve him, but rather perceives them as if they were his own reflection.” Cordelia offered a deep curtsey. “Come, let us feast, Your Highness.”

Micah watched as she ventured over to the door and opened it for him. He’d clearly passed her test and he felt pleased he’d used the truth to gain her favor. The truth could be powerful, he deduced.

Just as long as one knew how to use it properly.

 

*** * * ***

 

“You’re late.”

It seemed like a mantra for many individuals in his life. Or perhaps it was merely the truth and Micah needed to get a pocket watch.

Sachiel watched as he entered the training arena, mere minutes past their agreed upon time. The dinner with the Abitals went longer than expected, but Cain remembered his sparring lesson and smoothly excused him from dessert. Unfortunately, Micah hadn’t had time to change.

Sachiel stood on the padded mats, barefoot and prepared with a staff in hand. “How was the dinner?” he inquired innocuously.

Micah stripped off his jacket in one stride and toed off his shoes one at a time. He unbuttoned the high-collared tunic and discarded the outfit over the bench. “Pleasant. I never had experienced oysters before.” 

He wasn’t even going to ask how the man knew about his dinner with the Abitals. The aristocratic network was a gnarly ball of twisted grapevines and intricate connections. Micah had no interest in trying to make sense of it. It was only vital he remain cognizant that nobility scrutinized and reported his actions to other aristocrats. Nothing was secret nor should he ever assume otherwise.

“Quite the little politician.”

“Hardly.”

Sachiel’s eyes gleamed as he blatantly observed Micah disrobing to his undershirt. His attention lingered around his waist, as if anticipating the belt going next. “I was under the impression His Majesty would have to drag you to the throne kicking and screaming.” Slamming the end of the staff into the matt, Sachiel leaned against it eloquently. “Now you’re making dinner plans with Cordelia Abital, the spitfire councilwoman of Calder’s Court.”

“People are beginning to react to my inactivity,” Micah said distractedly as he removed his formal gloves to reveal the fingerless gloves underneath. “I don’t particularly like those reactions, so, I’ve decided to start moving my pieces in order to control the situation.”

Sachiel’s lip twitched. “You may word it with fancy allegories and the like,” he murmured amusingly. “But you couldn’t be any more opposite than your father and uncle.” Blue eyes narrowed pleasantly. “You actually care for others. It is truly endearing.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Micah grabbed his staff and walked onto the mat.

“Do you deny that the mistreatment of Kai Edlen was your catalyst to take things seriously?” Sachiel inquired far too innocently.

Micah twirled the staff around in his palm and readied himself in a defensive stance. “I’ve always taken things seriously.” At Sachiel’s continued scrutiny and immobility, Micah tightened his hands on the staff before loosening his hold. He straightened marginally and frowned at the other man. “I didn’t ask Kai to sacrifice anything for me.”

“Yet he did.”

Micah released a low breath. “He moved before I was ready. I cannot feel responsible for the repercussions of his actions, though I am willing to appreciate his sacrifice and make that sacrifice worthwhile.”

“You will make others wish they had followed Kai.”

“No,” Micah whispered. “I will make them regret not following _me_.”

Sachiel smiled with teeth. “That’s my boy.”   

The other man finally straightened and swung the staff through the air, nearly hitting Micah in the head. He backpedaled quickly, throwing his staff up and blocking another rapid attack from Sachiel.

Forced on the defense, he marveled at the man’s intensity tonight. A smart remark was at the tip of his tongue—a scathing and biting insult—before Sachiel caught him across the jaw. Micah, taken aback with the level of ferocity Sachiel displayed, landed on the ground with a hard _thud,_ his skin burning across his face _._

“You’ve grown lax, Ezra,” Sachiel informed mournfully, rearing up and bringing his staff down on Micah’s fallen form.

Dazed, and a taken off guard, Micah blocked the attack with his staff. He twirled the weapon in his hands, interlocking Sachiel’s hold and tugging the man down. Forced to bend at his waist, Sachiel grunted when Micah rammed the heel of his foot in his gut. Maneuvering his body in a backward summersault, Micah leaped to his feet, ducked beneath the attack, and slapped his staff against Sachiel’s abdomen. The man rolled with the hit, keeping up with Micah as he assaulted him with an array of difficult attacks.

“Faster!” Sachiel demanded as he blocked another one of Micah’s strikes.

The Unda warrior lunged abruptly for his legs, testing him, tempting him.

Unfortunately, Micah took the bait as he always seemed to when it came to low strikes.

He jumped.

“Do not leave your _feet_!” Sachiel went for another attack at his feet, relentless, and Micah jumped again. Only this time, he executed a backflip. “Flashy and entirely unrealistic in a sword fight, _Your Highness!_ You—”

Micah cut Sachiel off as he nearly caught the man across the face. As Sachiel ducked, Micah pivoted and moved with the man. Executing the Igni form, he relentlessly chased Sachiel around the mat, playing the role of the aggressor and relying on his physical strength.

Though Sachiel was on the defense, his movements were controlled and quick. He caught Micah’s overhead strike and used his momentum against him. Without warning, Sachiel executed an aggressive attack rarely seen with the Unda form. Forcibly maneuvering Micah’s arm in an odd angle, he slapped his elbow, forcing his fingers open around this staff. Sachiel then pressed his weapon against Micah’s throat, immediately calling for the end of the duel.

Micah stared at the man through lowered lids.

“See what I mean?” Sachiel inquired loudly.

Frowning, Micah pushed the staff away from his throat. He had no idea what the man was talking about, nor could he understand the look of victory across Sachiel’s face. The man was breathing heavily and sweating, an uncommon sight.

“He’s fights as if he’s bored.”

The voice sounded behind him, turning the sweat down his back into ice.  

Micah turned, spying Josiah standing near the exit of the stadium, tucked in the shadows near the underbelly of the observational stands. His posture, with one shoulder leaning against the wall, indicated he’d been observing for quite some time.

“I am pleased you see it as well.” Sachiel preened.

“Why?” Micah demanded icily.  

“You need _stoking_.”

“Stoking,” Micah repeated. “A fire needs stoking, not a person.”

Sachiel offered a mysterious smile, completely unconcerned at Micah’s growing ire. “On the contrary. You do better when you fight in a real battle. You’ve been regressing. While it is impossible to reenact a real battle, I considered the next best thing.”

Micah was at a loss.

“Lord Josiah is the only one who can get under your skin. Light a fire under you, so to say,” Sachiel said. “You won’t want to lose to him, yet I find it unlikely you can beat him.”  

“Not with the display I just witnessed,” Josiah added smoothly.

Trying to control his anger and offense, Micah calmly picked up his staff. “I see.”

“We are doing this in order to make you better, Ezra,” Sachiel explained. “I imagine things at the capital will get far worse before they can get better. Threats. Attempted assassinations. This is for your own safety.”

“I cannot work with him,” Micah hissed, throwing his hand in Josiah’s general direction. “He is impossible.”

_Agni,_ he hated the man. Last term, he’d asked Josiah to instruct him with the Elements. However, the Igni king had avoided him remarkably well after the request. It was if he were trying to prevent Micah from discovering he was an ice Elemental and that they were not Chosen. Fortunately, Micah found that out regardless.

“Councilman Sachiel.” Josiah’s silhouette detached from the shadows and advanced towards the platform. “Let me speak to him alone. You’ve been very helpful.”

Micah watched the two with thinly veiled abhorrence.

They acted as if Josiah had never banished Sachiel from the capital those many months ago. They were both genial. Both in unison with the other. All under the guise of helping Micah get _better._ As Sachiel left without another word, Micah forcibly turned his eyes on the man across from him. Josiah gazed at him impassively, though one would be a fool to miss the smug amusement.

“Throwing a fit will not win you any favors.”

“If I throw a fit, you’ll know it,” Micah retorted spitefully. “That was not a fit.”

“I cannot tell the difference with petulant children.”

“I’d rather be a petulant child than a conceited old man.”

Josiah frowned. “That’s rather unfair. I’m hardly that old.”

Micah’s mouth twitched as the man made no effort to deny his vanity. “You’re old enough to be my father. I call that fairly old.”

“Fortunately I am not your father.” Orange eyes turned half-lidded as they examined Micah. A surprising amount of depravity darkened his features into something akin to lust. Desire. “That would be rather taboo, don’t you think, child?”

“As if it isn’t taboo enough.” Micah yearned to see inside the man’s mind, to see what could cause such tangible hunger. “Assuming you _are_ my uncle and—”

“And not some daemon possessing your _half_ -uncle?” Josiah interrupted innocently. He cocked his head. “How are the studies progressing, by the way? Are you an expert exorcist now? Shall I watch my back? Examine the floor before I walk across it? Be wary of any and all rugs?”

“You mock me now, but you’ll see.”

“A master of the spirits and entities,” Josiah whispered. “You would be magnificent.”

Micah regarded Josiah, perceiving the rather content expression underneath the mask of stony impassiveness. If he had to ascertain Josiah’s current mood, he’d assume the man was in very high spirits. Could he be conceited enough to think the high spirits were because of him? Perhaps not conceited, but he’d be foolish.

Pathetic. 

“I see Calder opened your gilded cage and allowed you a short respite,” Micah muttered scornfully.

“Soon, you will be locked within the same lavish confinements. Alone. With me. Poor child.” Josiah appeared positively elated at the thought. “I will make certain Calder loses that key. A prison with you is no prison at all.”  

“I look forward to it,” Micah challenged.

That pleased Josiah.

The man advanced slowly, nonchalantly, though there was nothing casual about the intensity of his gaze. As he raised his arm, his fingers ghosted alongside Micah’s tender jaw, the same place Sachiel struck him earlier. It reminded Micah of Josiah’s ability to heal. A surprising gesture Josiah gifted him during their reunion.  

“How was it possible to train yourself to heal?” he inquired.

Spidery fingers caressed his skin before Josiah dropped his hand. “It was merely a case of channeling my animosity towards the fool who marked you. Black emotions, black magic.”

A simple answer. A vague answer.

Clearly a mockery of the truth. Not quite a lie, but not the entire truth either.

Micah watched as Josiah clasped his hands behind his back and leisurely made his way around the dueling platform. The man was always restless. Always moving. Though he could be as motionless as a stalking predator, he seemed to favor constant motion as he assessed things from every angle. The man moved with purpose.

Despite Micah’s taunts, the pride Josiah carried was not pompous. It was mature and poised, grounded on trials barely conquered and attained. Micah imagined Josiah suffered through several trials in his lifetime. Trials that hardened him, turned him cynical.

“Did you ever tire of the day to day political agenda?” Micah asked, truly curious.

Josiah paused in his pacing. “You’ve only just begun, child.”

The amusement was evident.

“I need to work for the crown.” Micah rotated on his heel and faced Josiah. “With such a high reaching objective, asses need to be kissed and flattery will pour from my lips like ill-tasting vomit. It will grow… tedious.”

“Tedious, if not fatal,” Josiah teased. “I was never in your position. My power was unquestionable. I watched as politicians played power plays with each other, all vying for the opportunity to be closer to me. When I got bored, I’d play along.”

Resuming his slow, controlled pacing, Josiah motioned towards Micah. “You, on the other hand, are scrambling from your absence in court, trying to pick up torn allegiances in hopes of tying them to yourself. Ladon is a threat.” Josiah paused. “Though he is a bastard, he is Unda and the king’s son. The Unda nobles hold the power here. If you are eliminated, Ladon will take the throne.”

“It would be like another Calder. No change. No possible threat to their highbrow society,” Micah whispered with clear aversion.

“So?” Josiah drawled. “What will you do? You’ve already indicated displeasure dancing amongst the ranks of nobles and trying to woo them all. Truthfully, I find the very idea distasteful and offensive. It is unbecoming of a prince to beg for his people who are sworn to him by birth.”

When Josiah worded it like _that,_ Micah wondered why he’d even considered it in the first place. He was not a salivating dog. He did not need to kneel at the feet of nobles just to await their loyalty. It made him appear reliant.

Weak.

“Of course, there will be nobles you will find worthy enough to seduce to your side, yes. When you successfully court one to your side, there is a high possibility that one will encourage two to follow, and so forth. Do not chase the ones who want to be chased just to see you kneel. It is unlikely their loyalties will ever change. Yet, when you take that crown, it is inevitable they will _have_ to bow to you,” Josiah said.

Micah tried to search for any underhanded tactics with Josiah’s advice. Surely, if they found each other on the opposite side of court one day, the man would want to start early and try to give Micah poor guidance.

Yet, he couldn’t find anything particularly damning.

Micah should continue courting, but not to the extent he’d feared he would need to perform. He _was_ the royal heir, after all. A monarch did not have to convince people to kneel when it was obligatory to do so. He’d have to continue being political. He’d have to continue wooing, but he would not scramble desperately.

“Undoubtedly, there will be assassination attempts,” Josiah continued.

“The nobles who are against my position are quite outspoken. They wouldn’t be so candid unless they thought such attempts at my life would be successful.”

“Most everyone is oblivious to your immunity with the Elements. I imagine your Edlen and Sachiel are loyal because they’ve caught a glimpse at the power you possess.” Josiah raised an eyebrow. “People are inclined to follow others if there is power involved.”

Though Micah wanted to believe Kai followed him for reasons other than his power, he couldn’t argue with Josiah’s logic.

“I don’t even know the extent of those powers.”

“That is why I plan to teach you how to use your Element.” Josiah stopped in front of him. “Though your dueling was subpar tonight, I am not concerned it will take long to correct. You’ve just grown complacent. As Sachiel indicated, you are an adrenaline fighter.”  

Micah hardly had to think it over.

“When do we start?”

Conjuring his Element was haphazard. Once he’d acknowledged his power, it seemed to come readily, especially in battle. When the adrenaline was gone, however, he struggled to frost over a mere cup of water.

“Your enthusiasm is endearing. But you still have some ways to go before we begin.”

Disappointed, but veiling it, Micah watched as Josiah smiled smugly before purposefully retreating off the dueling platform. “Is Calder calling you back home?” he inquired to the man’s back.

“If you’d like me to spend the night, all you have to do is ask.”

A slow hiss escaped from Micah’s lips, startling Josiah enough to cause the man to look over his shoulder. “You’re a smug bastard.”

Josiah hummed low in his throat. Agreeing. “Goodnight, Ezra.”

As the man exited the stadium, Micah deliberated the space the man once occupied. There was something unnervingly _ordinary_ about the reverberations of Josiah’s presence. It took him a moment to recognize it.

His mind felt clear.

His head wasn’t pounding uncontrollably.

There was no migraine, no torment. Not like it usually was when left alone in Josiah’s presence.

Narrowing his gaze, Micah slowly withdrew the warm, persistent pentagram from his trouser pocket that he’d placed there earlier that evening. The silver pendant gleamed defiantly. As Micah touched the face of the pendant with his fingers, he drew his hand back out of unease. Just as he’d imagined.

The metal was hot to the touch.

Micah exhaled sharply and clutched the pendant tightly in his palm, ignoring the pain as it dug into his delicate bones. He simply tightened his hold, closing his eyes and focusing his rage on things he could control. Nonetheless, there was one thing he kept returning to inside his head.

The man parading as Josiah wasn’t his uncle.

And he really wasn’t human.

He had to work quickly.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will most likely post chapter 5 & 6 together next weekend (hopefully). I'd say there will be some people slowly putting the pieces together for Josiah's secret around 6 and 7. Entire reveal will happen 8-9 ;)


	5. Chapter Five

**5\. Chapter Five**

 

It was now or never.

Before classes started tomorrow, before the _day_ started, now was the time.

Standing on his knees, Micah stared down at his work. Between his fingers, he held a piece of charcoal aloft, momentarily distracted by the dark smears across his gloveless hands. He was sure black marks also claimed his face from subconsciously scratching it. He’d been so focused on his work, small things as charcoal residue remained in the back of his mind.

Rising from the floor, Micah obsessively traced each line with his eyes.

He looked for any incomplete shapes, reminded vividly of Keegan’s limp fingers hovering just over a broken rune.  

Forcing his mind to focus, he stalked the perimeter of the pentagram with intentional slowness.

One of the things he did not particularly like about demonology were the materials it required for several banishment spells and conjuring rituals. It wasn’t as if the military academy had a stockroom full of witchcraft ingredients. This particular ritual required elder, hawthorn, and bloodroot. Instead, he’d find swords, shoe polish, laces, and towels.

When he realized he would not be able to procure the necessary items, he nearly quit.

Fortunately, he stumbled upon alternatives in one of his books. Yesterday, before dinner with the Abitals, he had spent the day reading and identifying substitutes for conjuring a daemon. He was envious of Josiah’s ability to execute magic without chants, without fancy drawings. When it came to demonology, however, it was _all_ about the runes and the ingredients.

Everything needed to be perfect.

Flawless.

Now he understood Josiah’s willingness to allow him to practice demonology.

Noir Magic required surrendering a piece of yourself to sorcery. It consumed the user, became their essence, a constant dark companion whispering temptations of power just so long one surrenders to its aberrant and demanding whims.

Demonology was an entirely different branch of magic. A different _realm._ Micah was a mere servant to the daemon world. He had to abide by the rules and draw every line to perfection. It was textbook. Black and white. Stringent. He also had a strong suspicion that Josiah knew he couldn’t procreate ingredients for the more dangerous rituals, which was probably another reason why he allowed Micah’s studies.

Nonetheless, he’d make things work.

He would become an expert in this art and know things Josiah did not. That thought alone drove him to conduct the ritual this morning. His teammates were still asleep and he had enough time to complete this before they woke.

He needed to see.

He needed _proof_ that daemons actually existed before investing any more time into this mess.  

His pulse raced with anticipation as he placed the tin bowl in the center of the pentagram. The bowl was empty, of course, though he’d found a suitable replacement to hawthorn and elder that would still call upon a daemon.

 _Assuming_ they were real.

Extracting a knife, he slid it across his scarred palm without hesitation. The thick, crimson liquid dripped readily into the bowl. Curling his fingers into a fist, he squeezed out a bit more until it completely covered the bottom. Wrapping his hand in cloth, and making certain no blood dripped on the rune, Micah withdrew a match from his pocket.  

With a baited breath, Micah struck the match and threw the flame inside the bowl.

Quickly, he exited the rune, standing at the perimeter.

Nothing happened.

That was okay. That was fine. He crouched down low, acknowledging that it may take some time. However, as soon as the match dropped into the blood, the flame unimpressively extinguished. Disappointment bled his soul black. What had he expected? A roaring fire? The ritual specified ingredients he did not possess. He’d improvised by using the blood of the conjurer and a rune drawn from pure charcoal. 

It did not surprise him that it did not work.

He crouched further down, staring at the bowl and the runes. A part of him had expected to feel at least a rush of magic. That night at the warehouse, when the Magi had recited the ritual, Micah had experienced the swell of something intangibly supernatural. Yet, nothing even shifted in the unused classroom. Not even the sconce on the wall flickered. 

“Impressive,” he drawled derisively, suddenly upset.

This was ridiculous. Why had he even bothered?

“Impressive indeed.”

His spine stiffened and the hairs on his arms stood at end. He stood up suddenly. The voice sounded distorted, raspy, with a strange echo. He examined the rune once again, but the charcoal lines remained unimpressively inactive and dull. The match still floated hopelessly in a bowl of his blood. Nothing—no daemon— no entity stood in the middle of the rune.

But he hadn’t imagined the voice.

“You don’t mind if I stand outside the rune, do you?” a voice inquired behind him.

Micah whirled around, staring at the figure with horror.

As he faced the entity in the corner of the room, Micah’s emotions spiraled out of his control. Though he wanted to remain stubbornly unaffected, the fear slipped silkily through the cracks of his resolve and took suffocating prevalence. The entity was a smoky, humanoid figure, nothing but a dark, moving mist.

As the entity moved its head, Micah discerned a pale flash. A skull. The entity seemed to move in slow, fragmented time, for as the skull moved, it left behind previous images—mirages—of where it was once positioned.

It appeared like a disjointed, time reel.

Micah looked over his shoulder at the rune, trying to find his error.

“It’s drawn impeccably,” the figured rasped, clearly reading Micah’s misperception. “I’m just not the creature you intended to summon.”  

He looked back at the entity, trying to find his tongue.

While the flickering and disjointed figure was unsettling to look at, it wasn’t so much the entity’s appearance that frightened Micah. It was unexplainable. He remembered feeling something similar as he caught a glimpse of Josiah’s reflection in the Unda vault. There wasn’t a way to describe it without sounding incomprehensible.

It was if the entity was pure evil. In turn, Micah’s subconscious was trying to tell him to _run._

“Then what are you?” Micah managed. “If not a daemon?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” The entity faded until it completely disappeared. Its voice lingered behind like a whisper. “If not a human?”

Turning, he spied the wispy shape of darkness now hovering in the center of the pentagram. “But I am a human,” Micah informed, forcing his voice lower to hide the tremor.

“Then I am a daemon.”

Soft, mocking laughter resonated across the room.

Micah deliberated the shadow and the shadow deliberated him. A part of him wondered if Josiah was playing some elaborate trick on him. The entity reminded Micah of the Igni king, as both were haughty and elusive. An evil unmasked. This was what the Noir Users described the night Josiah destroyed their people.

Through his fear, Micah felt a flicker of…

What was it?

Triumph? Awe?

Daemons were real and the Magi truly alleged in their mission to destroy the entity that shattered their entire culture. While Keegan’s death remained a burning affliction, at least it hadn’t resulted from a group of foolish men and women who believed in a delusion. Said delusion stood in front of him now.

In the _flesh._

It was real.

Micah felt his lips curl with satisfaction as he walked alongside the edge of the rune. He felt something within him transform and preen with contentment. “You won’t answer my questions, will you?” he asked the entity.

“You have no coercion.” The shadow moved again, appearing just a short distance away from Micah. “Nothing to hold me. Nothing to offer.”

“No,” Micah agreed readily. “I don’t even hold the slightest delusion that I do.” He paused. “But I suppose, if _you_ weren’t at all curious, you would have attacked me by now.”

“This is the first time in centuries someone has had the power to summon me.”

“Improperly summoned you,” Micah corrected. “To summon, I would have been able to tie you to the rune and banish you upon will. Something tells me you are not bound to the rune and will run amok as soon as you grow bored.” 

The entity flickered, almost as if it were not strong enough to hold on to a physical form in this realm. Micah wondered if it truly came all the way through, or if it was simply embodying a fraction of itself into this world.

“You’re correct.”

He really did try to care that he set this entity loose, but he failed. It was all too intriguing.

“Though I wouldn’t run far,” the entity echoed. “You are fascinating.”

“I hadn’t believed your kind was real,” Micah admitted, ignoring the beginnings of unease upon the entity’s admission. “It’s why I summoned you.”

“You attempted to summon a daemon.”

“A daemon,” Micah corrected agreeably.

“Are you satisfied with the results?” it asked. “Or are you frightened by the implications of an entirely different realm of existence? Mortals are rather simple-minded creatures. They worship gods but cannot truly fathom a plane of existence outside their own. Though they wish for it. Hope for it. They recoil at the mere idea when faced with it themselves.”

“I never put much weight in the existence of gods before, but I am able to quickly process and accept the results of today’s outcome. I am hardly _simple._ ”

The entity was silent for a moment. “A human that does not put their faith in their god of choice?” The entity laughed quietly. “It is unheard of, though perhaps times have changed.” 

Micah did not comment on the subject.

There was no need.

“You said there was a realm. Your realm,” Micah started. “Is that where you were before I did my summoning ritual? Or were you in our world when you felt the pull?”

While he wasn’t too concerned with the fact this entity was unchained, he knew this would most likely come back to haunt him. However, if the creature was already in their realm before the summoning, Micah could play ignorant.

“I was sleeping,” it replied softly. “For centuries.”

Fear prickled down his neck like a persistent and malicious insect.

Micah exhaled levelly. “And I was enough to awaken you?” he inquired, frustrated at the answer. “I find that highly unlikely.” He took a step closer to the entity, too unnerved to take another. “You seem powerful. Too powerful to succumb to a mere _mortal’s_ summoning ritual.” Not just any mortal’s summoning ritual, but an amateur’s first attempt.

“I was not forced awake,” it said. “I simply sensed a familiar imprint and chose to heed the call out of mere curiosity.”

The entity was hardly making any sense to Micah. “What will you do after this?” Micah asked tightly. “Do you consume souls like other daemons? Do you possess mortals with the intentions of corrupting mankind?”

“Is that what daemons do?”

Micah flushed with embarrassment at the condescending tone. “It’s what mortals are forced to believe with what little documentation there is on daemons.” He narrowed his eyes on the figure. “And considering you’re not bothering to correct me, I have to make an assumption.”

The entity remained silent as it continued to flicker in and out of existence.

Frustrated, Micah pinched his lips together. “There is a very powerful entity I believe possesses a family member of mine,” he started levelly, thinking of Josiah. “Will you confirm or deny the fact that possession of a mortal is possible by one of _your_ kind?”

“It’s possible, yes.” 

“Are there others like you?”

The entity made a noise that sounded as if bone grinded against bone. “Oh yes.”

“Of your power caliber?” Micah inquired, hoping the entity continued answering his questions. “You hold a higher status as a daemon, yet you are cut from the same mold, yes?”

The pale face swooped down to study the rune on the floor. “It was your blood. Not the rune.”

Micah took a step back, knowing a retreat was meaningless, but wanting nothing more than to escape the situation. The entity appeared fascinated with the rune, or more particularly, the bowl holding his blood.

“Your blood.” The entity chortled again.

Suddenly, the bowl rocked unevenly back and forth before clattering upside down. The blood slowly seeped from underneath the lip of the bowl and sluggishly shadowed the unnatural flow of the rune lines. An eerie, rattling inhalation resonated across the room. Micah watched, in alarm, as the blood—his blood—slowly disappeared from the floor as if someone greedily savored drop after drop. His attention then landed on the entity, watching as the flickering stopped and the mist solidified.

Rather unexpectedly, a peculiar sense of dizziness washed over Micah.

His hand groped the wall, hoping to latch on to something before he fell. He thought he’d grabbed the bookcase in time, though as he fell, his fingers grabbed nothing but air.

Micah braced himself on his hands and knees, his head far too heavy to hold upright.

“I know what you are now,” the entity claimed delightedly. It sounded less like an _it_ and more of a _he._ “A mere fledgling now, but…” he trailed off. “It is _incredible_ to see your existence. She truly created you.” 

Something —someone— dropped in front of him. Micah strained his eyes up, staring into white, dead eyes. The face was sunken, cracked, appearing like shattered granite. He didn’t know what he preferred. The flickering skull or the colorless and cracked features. Something was obvious, however.

The weaker Micah grew, the stronger the entity became.

“Such a long ways to go,” the man murmured forlornly as he gazed down at Micah. “First, you must begin to _see._ ”

Lukewarm hands grabbed his face and the entity pressed his forehead against the crown of Micah’s head. White, colorless eyes levelled with his own and Micah stiffened and stopped breathing against the sheer terror. Gradually, the entity pressed its face firmly against Micah’s, as if wanting to absorb himself into him. As if wanting to consume him whole.

And he did.

Micah screamed at the top of his lungs as the entity gradually sunk into his body at their conjoined foreheads. The pain was agonizing; the sheer _horror_ of it all was implausible. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see anything but the white flash of agony.

“ _Josiah_!” Micah screamed earsplittingly, sobbing unconditionally. “ _Agni_ , please make it stop!”

Make it stop.

Please make it stop!

His eyes rolled into the back of his skull and he ravenously fell into the arms of bleak unconsciousness. It was a restless slumber, for an echo of pain followed him into the blackness and his body turned stiff and unmoving with cold. He wasn’t aware of anything else, though eventually, a warmness flickered.

It ignited and banished away the shadows.

His body slowly reacted to the warmth and the pain seemed to subdue as he struggled his way to consciousness. A male and female were arguing with each other in low, hushed tones, their anger only evident from the inimical tenors.

“You will tell me,” the man demanded. “What have you done?”

“I have given him a purpose. A destiny.” Her voice was so soft, so familiar. “How else could you expect me to satisfy your demands with one so young?”

“Is his _purpose_ truly what I think it is?”

The response did not come. Micah yearned to hear her again. Her voice was a pang, a bittersweet torment that inflamed remembrance and comfort from a time long ago. The memory was something unattainable and filled with nothing but dark sorrow and lost—broken— affections. The sensation was unknown and unexplainable.

Micah knew he’d dreamt of her and her voice.

He did not know a woman like that.

Fingers trailed across his cheek, drying a fresh tear that had fallen. “Child.” A pause. “Ezra.”   

Micah grabbed the hand on his face, slowly opening his eyes to the soft, subtle flames encompassing their conjoined fingers. The warmth he’d felt in his cold unconsciousness was Josiah’s Elemental powers. Or perhaps it was Noir Magic. Flames that did not burn, but simply soothe.

Gentle.

Extremely unlike Josiah.

For a moment, he marveled at the sheer power he held over the Igni man. He remembered calling out to Josiah, hoping the man somehow knew he’d be in trouble. And here he was, cradling him on the ground and luring Micah from the depths of cold oblivion with the aid of a calm serenade of smoldering flames. Yet, while Micah appreciated the hold he had over Josiah, he knew it was a double-edged blade.

Josiah held just as much sway over him.

He dropped Josiah’s fingers and looked up at the man, taken aback.

The man _glowed._

A bright, nearly blinding light engulfed the man’s figure. It pulsated, like a heartbeat. Micah could feel each beat in his head, directly behind his eyes. Underneath the brightness, he detected the same, sinister-like aura the entity had possessed.

Dread curled in his stomach and Micah scrambled up, away from Josiah.

No. _No_. 

He pressed his palms into his eyes, hoping to erase the feeling, the brightness.

“What do you see?” Josiah’s voice inquired distantly.

“The entity.” Micah paused. “It’s inside me.” Slowly, he dropped his hands and chanced another look at Josiah. He squinted, prepared for the illumination, but nothing greeted him except a mildly glowing Josiah. The man’s features radiated a subtle glow, as if the setting sun encased him like a second skin.

“You are you. Nothing is inside you,” Josiah informed calmly. The Igni king stood from the ground and stepped into the rune. He watched Micah steadily, as if trying to determine whether to escort him to bed or push him back to the throng of reality with a callous shove. “You summoned a daemon,” the man continued distantly. “It attacked you.”

“I didn’t summon a daemon,” Micah argued fiercely. “It was similar, but more than that. It was more powerful.” He looked around the room, trying to remember, but failing miserably to recall the conversation that woke him. “Where is the woman?”

“Woman?”

“The woman you were talking to,” Micah specified.

“There was no woman.”

“You’re _lying_ ,” he accused. His anger grew hot, relentless. “You’re keeping me in the dark again and treating me like a child!”  With an accusing finger, Micah pointed at the rune. “I summoned something that felt just like _you,_ ” Micah prattled. “It was some kind of embodiment of darkness. I know you’re not my uncle. I know my blood is somehow special to the entity I summoned. I figure that’s why you’re staying close to me. It’s why you’ve made me your _Chosen_ when I was just a child!”

It made sense.

Another puzzle piece presented itself to Micah today.

If Josiah would not confirm or deny his allegations, Micah would make his assumptions. The Noir Users were right. Something had possessed Josiah that night he performed a ritual. Later, the entity had destroyed their people. When _Josiah_ returned to the capital, he’d seen the child Ezra and proclaimed him his Chosen in order to stake a claim far more intimate than any typical uncle.

Like the entity today, Micah’s blood, his presence, most likely strengthened the creature possessing Josiah’s body. The ritual the Magi conducted hadn’t only failed because of Keegan’s tampering with the rune, but also because Josiah was not a daemon.

He was something far worse.

Josiah simply walked towards the door and grabbed all three of Micah’s demonology textbooks off the table.

“You will no longer require these, _child._ ”

The hot rage within Micah suddenly plummeted in temperature.

His hands trembled. His whole body trembled with unrestrained fury. The freezing temperature, aimed at Josiah, caused the man to stumble and grasp his throat with disbelief. Accusingly, he turned to Micah and threw out his arm, sending a wall of fire in his direction. Standing his ground, Micah stared at the flames, willing them to _die._

They extinguished rather suddenly and pieces of solid ice rained to the ground.

Through the prevalent anger in Josiah’s eyes, an odd, peculiar expression took precedence. Something flittering just at the edge of amusement and hunger. Something sinisterly satisfying.

The door slammed closed behind Josiah and Micah released a scream of rage.

He _hated_ him!

 

*** * * ***

 

“Where have you been, Egan?”

Shaking off his temper took longer than Micah had anticipated. He hadn’t been so angry since Keegan’s death. For several hours after Josiah’s exit, Micah had dwelled inside the unused classroom, scrubbing the floor and ridding the evidence of the failed and useless charcoal rune. All the things he felt towards Josiah immediately after Keegan’s death had returned.

Returned with a startling vengeance.

He didn’t know _why_ he’d even allowed the man closer after he’d returned to the capital. Yes, Josiah was intoxicating. Their interactions oppressive and addicting. That didn’t change the fact that Josiah was hiding things from him.

A great deal of things.

Micah was all for power plays, but there came a point when he needed conformation. He did his part. He’d researched, schemed, followed the small clues, and accused. Josiah couldn’t just _stand_ there and stay silent. And to take away his books… Like some sort of parental punishment!

“I’ve been busy,” Micah replied to Kai as he deposited his book bag at the foot of the bed. “Homework. Essays.”

“Hm. That would explain the black marks across your face.”

Micah spared Kai an exasperated glance, noticing the blond-haired cadet watching him suspiciously from his bunkbed. Though there was a relatively large book opened on the man’s lap, he hardly seemed engrossed with the material. Pausing, Micah observed the faint, glow-like radiance around Kai as he’d seen with Josiah. Only this time, instead of the setting sun, the illumination appeared to rival the pale rays of the moon.

“Black marks aside, you look a bit sick,” Kai observed. “Or upset.”

“Perhaps a bit of both.”

Turning away from the sight in front of him, Micah collapsed onto his bed. Throwing his boots onto the floor with a _thump_ , he lay down, pressing a forearm over his eyes. His head throbbed. His body was sore, as was his pride.

He’d just wanted to summon a simple daemon. That was it. Simple evidence to prove his skepticism wrong or right. Instead, he’d ignorantly summoned something much stronger that nearly tore his mind into two. He’d had to call out to Josiah like a weak, pathetic child only for the man to scold him and not take his inquiries seriously.

Now people _glowed._

“I heard you dined with the Abitals last night.”

“I did.”

“Why the change of strategy?” When Micah did not respond, Kai persisted. “I thought you were just going to let things fall into place.”

“That remains my objective.” Micah closed his eyes against his sleeve. “I’ve come to the realization that a prince does not beg for his people.” He hated that he took Josiah’s words and made them his own. “That’s not to say I won’t work to establish close allies amongst the nobles I find valuable. I think the Abitals are advantageous to have behind me. I would also like to smooth things out with your father.”

“Why?” Kai demanded, suddenly heated upon the very mention of an alliance with his father. “If you’re doing this with the intentions of helping me, you aren’t. You’re doing the opposite. I didn’t ask for your interference. I don’t want you going after _him_.”

Micah slowly dropped his arm and craned his neck around to peer at Kai. For a moment, he admired the way the light around Kai brightened with his mood. Oddly enough, it did not appear angry, but soothing, warm. Compassionately cohesive.

“No, you didn’t ask for my interference. You didn’t have to.”

“I can say with complete certainty that my father will never find you agreeable, Egan. There is no point in trying. You’ll just trip over your feet for his own amusement.”

Micah smiled. “He’ll have to kneel to me eventually, Edlen. I don’t care how agreeable he thinks I am.”

That quieted the other man abruptly.

Faced with a long stretch of silence, Micah found himself dosing off. He felt so _exhausted._ Despite Josiah saying nothing was inside him, Micah could not trust the man. He felt different. He saw things he did not understand. Whom would he turn to for answers? Usually he’d turn to Josiah, but that was not an option any longer.

He had no one.

Not even his textbooks to consult.

“That’s certainly a new perspective I haven’t heard from you before,” Kai’s voice pierced through Micah’s thin veil of slumber. He sounded curious. Intrigued. “What made you change your outlook on this?”

Micah struggled to remember their conversation. “I realized there were bigger things to worry about than the opinion of nobles.”

Like where the entity was and what it intended to do with his newfound strength. Mirroring Josiah in many ways, from their ominous auras to their proud attitude, Micah imagined the entity would also find a human host. After centuries of slumber, possessing a human would help the entity grow acclimated to the new world.

After which, Micah felt responsible for the terror it unleashed.

He then paused.

Had his uncle—his _real_ uncle—accidently summoned the entity that was now inside him? Had his intentions been, like Micah, to summon something entirely different? Would Micah become the new host to the creature he aroused from the depths of slumber? The thought set him on edge. He refused to be weak enough to allow something to take over his body and mind. Just how long had Josiah been a prisoner to his own body and mind?

The thought was incredibly unsettling.

“Well, I approve of the new perception,” Kai said. “Are you sure you’re alright, Egan? It’s only ten o’clock and you look _lifeless_.”

“Do you know any Noir Users?” Micah mumbled flippantly, unable to keep his eyes open.

“Of course I do. Not a Noir User, per say, but I know of someone here at the capital who knows a great deal about Noir Magic.” Kai sounded amused. “If you’d asked sooner, we probably wouldn’t have needed to leave during break to hunt for your _mysterious_ items that you thought you could hide from me.” He laughed once. “And you thought you were being sly.”

As much as Kai’s unexpected answer should have roused him from his sleep, he could do nothing but succumb to the drowsiness. It was a conversation for later.

Most definitely.

 

 


	6. Chapter Six

**6\. Chapter Six**

 

The alarm reached deep into Micah’s subconscious with grating persistency.

Sluggishly, he roused himself from his deep sleep, immediately feeling the effects of waking prematurely. Disorientation made his movements delayed as he stood from his bed and nearly collided with Kai.

“Watch it, Egan,” the boy snapped, just as disorientated by the blaring alarm.

Since enrolling at the academy, he’d never heard the alarm sound. He’d heard _of_ it from overenthusiastic cadets, he just hadn’t expected he’d ever hear it go off. Something important must have transpired in the kingdom and the academy staff wanted all the students to assemble in the training arena. From the corner of his eye, he saw Talia strip boldly down to her undergarments. Either she was getting far too comfortable with the male-dominated team or she was just as tired as the rest of them to feel any sort of modesty.

Micah stuffed his feet into his high combat boots and laced them quickly.

“Shut the ruddy thing _off_!” Viktor screamed shrilly as he struggled to get into his military jacket. His hair was askew, his eyes wide and frenzied as he accused the alarm.

“Your screaming just makes things worse, Viktor,” Aiden snipped.

“Let’s get along, children,” Micah mocked as he stood from his mattress. He sighed, his attention falling on the large lump in bed. “Someone wake Cain up.”

“I’m up,” the man mumbled into his pillow.

Viktor sprinted over and abruptly grabbed the edge of Cain’s mattress. Unceremoniously, he yanked the mattress at an awkward angle, causing the larger male to tumble to the ground with a painful thud. Turning his shoulder on the pair with another sigh of exasperation, Micah fastened his jacket. As he bent down to grab his sword holster, his attention landed on the pentagram pendant he’d stuffed under his pillow last night.

Reaching for the familiar weight, he paused as his fingers traced over a nick.

Gathering the pendant, he studied it up close, squinting at the scratched metal. He tilted it in the bath of light, confused when he saw the golden gleam. Using his fingernail, he scratched relentlessly at the gouge, startled when silver residue sprinkled down upon his bedsheets. Underneath the silver, more gold appeared.

Micah’s eyes widened comically.

But… but that was _impossible_!

Micah clutched the pendant, his pulse racing furiously as he brought the pendant as close to his eyes as possible. It was not a trick of the light. Fake silver veiled real gold. When dealing with daemons, Magi worked with elements like nickel, sterling silver, and charcoal. Not _gold._ Micah never read about a ritual using gold as a conductor. In fact, his textbooks often claimed to use anything _but_ gold.

But then…

The implications…

_No, no, no! **No**!_

His stomach dropped to his feet.

“Micah!”

Struggling to regain his senses, Micah breathed shakily. Looking over his shoulder, he noticed his team lingering near the doorway, waiting for him. Shifting, they hastily finished fastening the last button on their uniforms or hooking their holsters across their shoulders and backs.

Stuffing the pendant into his pocket, Micah joined his team, his mind heavy, his emotions haywire.

Could it really be…? It couldn’t. But…

 _Focus,_ he reprimanded himself. It was an _extremely_ unnerving revelation, but he had to focus on the task at hand. His assumptions could be wrong, after all. They’d been wrong before. He needed evidence before he could get too excited or too frightened.

Fortunately, the blaring alarm silenced as they made their way to the arena. Other students, appearing bleary-eyed, soon accompanied them in the corridors. There was a sense of silent tension in the air as everyone pondered on the emergency. As they entered the arena, Micah immediately spied Josiah. The man stood in the center of the arena with several instructors as his back.

Though Councilman Sachiel was the acting academy Chairman during Josiah’s palace arrest, it appeared as if the situation required a more authoritative voice. Micah led his team to an area with enough seating. As they sat on the stands amongst the sea of other cadets, they acquired sharp observation. Politely ignoring the stares, and the intensity of all the _glowing_ , Micah focused resolutely on Sachiel.

The man appeared rather grim.

“A good morning to all of you.” Josiah’s sardonic greeting resonated across the silent arena with startling clarity. Above his head, the clock indicated it hadn’t been morning for very long. “You’re all here, not for an assignment or a graded evaluation, but rather a real life mission. There was a…” the man trailed off, intentionally stoking the tension in the room. “Revolt in Region 0 late last night.”

That fueled the flames for excited and nervous chatter.

Micah knew Region 0 was the capital’s prison that housed all sorts of criminals. From what others said, the prison was a gated community that put the prisoners to work with a semblance of freedom.

It was also close to the capital, which unnerved many citizens.  

For a good reason.

“There were several casualties last night,” Josiah continued.

Though he stood before the students on ground level, he had an air of someone possessing significantly higher ground. With his hands clasped firmly behind his back, and with a haughty lift of both his chin and shoulders, he harnessed control with image alone. Eyes across the arena focused intently upon Josiah, unable to look away from the man’s charisma. Even Unda nobles, who were not shy in their dislike of the Igni king, always seemed to give the man their full attention and respect.

Micah observed the students, unnerved with their obsession given the current situation. They seemed to yearn for Josiah’s attention, no matter how brief. Subconsciously, their feet and torsos turned toward Josiah with anticipation, hoping to catch the man’s eyes. Even just for a fleeting second. It was almost… _supernatural,_ one could say.

Micah’s attention lingered on the glow around the students. He’d become accustomed to the illumination the last couple of days when classes began. However, it still perplexed him of _why_ he was seeing it and _what,_ exactly, he was seeing. Everyone possessed the glow. There was no one, but his own reflection, that did not have a subtle glow.

Turning back to the Igni king, Micah noticed he’d garnered the man’s keen attention.

He was suddenly very aware of the pendant weighing in his pocket.

His fingers trembled before he curled them into a fist.

It couldn’t be true. He refused to believe it.

“Several of our men were lost,” Josiah said, looking away. “Unfortunately, as you can imagine, many prisoners escaped. We will be working with the military to incarcerate and capture as many prisoners as we can.” The man seemed to make a point of gazing at each student. “Those who resist capture will face an informal death penalty.”

Someone cheered in the crowd.

“The top two teams from each year will travel to Region 5. Others will stay back at the capital and be our second line of defense.” Josiah turned to Sachiel. “Councilman Sachiel will stay behind and I will accompany those to Region 5.” _Of course_ he would be the one going to Region 5. “Details will be provided to you and your team once you arrive at your destination. Those who are staying behind need to see Councilman Sachiel for your stations. Those who are going to Region 5 need to board the train.”

Josiah raised his hands and clapped once, startling everyone to rise.

“ _Now_.”

Micah led his team down the observation bleachers and across the arena. He caught Sachiel’s eyes and the councilman beckoned him over.

“You’ve been requested to stay behind,” Sachiel explained. “By your father.” Just over Sachiel’s shoulder, Micah watched as another instructor approached Ladon and delivered similar news. The boy appeared generally unaffected as he heeded the request to stay behind. Almost as if it happened frequently.

“A request,” Micah repeated, turning back to Sachiel. “Is not an order.”

Sachiel’s lips twitched and he feigned exasperation. “Very well.”

“Typical,” Kai muttered as he walked directly at Micah’s shoulder. “He caves into you all the time. It’s ridiculous.”

“It sounds as if you _want_ me to stay behind, Edlen.”

“Are my intentions not clear enough for you?” Kai asked dryly. “Evidently, I’m being too subtle if you’re questioning them.”

“You’ll never get your position back as co-captain.”

Kai laughed once. “Co-captain? I will be our _sole_ captain within term’s end.”  

Just as they reached the corridor, Micah nearly collided with Josiah, who’d emerged from the shadows undetected. “You’re to stay behind,” he informed unsympathetically. “It is not a request, but an order.”

At the directive, Micah faltered. Josiah never coddled him.

That trait was actually something he _liked_ about the man.

“I don’t understand.”

Cadets from other teams passed them on their way to the train, looking between him and Josiah and then talking quietly amongst each other. Micah could have sworn he heard the term ‘ _Chosen’_ and he recoiled. Members of the court knew about Josiah’s claim on Ezra since he was a child. Micah just hadn’t known how far that knowledge spread. He hadn’t known how much it would feel like a hot, oppressive brand of ownership.

Josiah, unaware of Micah’s growing ire, leaned closer to the younger man.

“You are to stay behind,” he repeated firmly. “That is an order.” A hand suddenly curled around the nape of his neck. Possessive. Controlling. “I will stay in tune with you,” Josiah whispered, his lips nearly pressed against his ear. “If I so much _sense_ your presence on the train to Region 5, I will make a scene and drag you out by your ear. Do you understand?”

Micah didn’t know it was possible to despise the man more than he already did. He forgot about the pendant in his pocket, he no longer cared about what—no— _who_ this man may be. Wrenching his head away from Josiah, Micah turned and locked eyes with him. “Don’t ever touch me again, or _I_ will make a scene,” he whispered icily, using the man’s words back at him. “Do you understand _me_?”

Moving away from the tightening hand, Micah motioned for Kai and the others to follow. He retreated from the Igni king, feeling the beginnings of his Element lick at the tips of his cold fingers. He wouldn’t give Josiah the satisfaction of losing control.

“Trouble in paradise?” Viktor inquired innocently. “You both are just _fascinating._ ”

“Viktor!”

“Not now, Viktor.”

“You never know when to shut up, do you, Viktor?”

A chorus of voices reprimanded at once, immediately quieting the boy. However, Micah took one look at the boy, noticing the wide, amused smirk on his face. Evidently, he was unaffected by all the protests. “Varuna has granted your wish today, Edlen. You’ll be sole captain,” Micah started, ignoring Viktor’s quip. “Take advantage of it, because there will not be a next time.” He smirked at the others who assembled loyally behind him. “Just like practice.”

“Only you’re not at my side,” Kai pointed out unnecessarily.

“This will be good practice. I won’t always be by your side. You synchronize well with Cain and Talia. If you don’t feel prepared to fight solo, join them. Viktor and Aiden will pair up together.”

It was slightly amusing seeing their stubbornly impassive faces. They wanted to remain unaffected, but Micah could see. Their glow—their _auras_ — were rather dim and dark. Far less radiant than they usually were. They were worried. Unconfident. They’d lost too many team members to experience the glow of undefeated glory.

“Maybe we can stay behind as well,” Aiden suggested.

Micah offered a small smile upon the proposition. “The prisoners will have to travel through Region 5 before they reach the capital. You’re the first line of defense and that’s how it should be.”

He looked at their expressions, recognizing the ill-tasting hesitancy of a compliment sitting on his tongue. Several evenings ago, when he praised Cain in front of his parents, he considered the possibility of giving his team more encouragements. More compliments. Micah supposed, given their apprehensive mind frames, a compliment couldn’t hurt.

“You’re all very impressive warriors,” he said tensely. “I’m proud of all of you.”

Amid their surprised features, Viktor was the first to react. Just as Micah imagined he’d be.

“ _Ah_ ,” the man gushed with a surprising amount of emotion. “Did our… _prince_ just… did he really just praise us?”

Micah rotated his body and inclined his head towards the exit. “Go. Don’t disappoint me.”

Viktor offered a coy smile as he and the rest of the team walked past Micah.

As he watched them leave, he tried to suppress his overprotectiveness. He tried and failed to comprehend Josiah’s insistence he stay behind. Was it politically motivated? Or was it meant as punishment for the other day? He hoped it was the former reason. If anyone should be upset about the day he conjured the entity, it should be Micah.

The object of his ire breezed by, following the cadets down the corridor. Micah turned away before they could make eye contact. He schemed up ways to get even with the man, coming up short, but trusting he’d find a way.

“Despite what you undoubtedly feel about Lord Josiah’s decision, I consider this a step in the right direction when it comes to your relationship with him,” Sachiel said as soon as he noticed Micah returning to the arena. “The man is taking your safety seriously as opposed to throwing you into the fire.”

“If there is one thing Josiah is not, it’s protective.”

“But he is particularly possessive,” Sachiel countered smartly. “Essentially, it is the same thing as being protective, only far more selfish and stifling.”

“Don’t forget the ill intentions.”

Micah watched as the cadets all exited the arena, hurrying to their stations or to the train. He envied the ones who departed to the left, the same path that would lead them to the train, and eventually, the front lines. He wanted adrenaline. He wanted to fight. “What is the point of attending the academy if I cannot go on missions?”

“For most nobles, it is for show,” Sachiel replied. He motioned Micah forward at his side as they departed from the empty arena. “Ladon has never been on a mission. Calder found it pointless to risk his life on assignments. After all, you and I both know assignments are just as deadly as the real thing.”

 _Wayde_.

Micah dutifully followed Sachiel as the man led him across the academy grounds and towards one of several carriages.

“Despite reassurances of your abilities from several sources, Calder still wants to be extra careful with you, I’m afraid,” Sachiel informed. He opened the door for Micah and motioned inside. “You’re with me and the other leftovers.”  

Micah sat in the carriage. “Leftovers.” It was a term that had been foreign to him until he arrived at the capital. After all, the outskirt regions never had such a luxury as leftovers. “You’re comparing us to uneaten food?”

“It’s a fitting analogy.” Sachiel settled himself in the seat across from Micah and the carriage jerked into motion “Once part of the whole, but now separated from the group. Set aside and used only when needed. _If_ needed. An extra.”

“That is a rather tasteless analogy,” Micah drawled. “Considering most inhabitants of the capital discard leftovers without consideration.”

The man chuckled softly, pleased. His eyes roved across Micah with seductive slowness. “You are hardly disposable.”

“There he is,” Micah murmured silkily. “I’d thought you’d lost interest.”

Indeed, Sachiel’s rather forward comments had lessened considerably since they started training together. Though Micah wasn’t too bothered with the man’s sudden professionalism when they’d began working together, he was pleased to see the old Sachiel return. “Never,” the older man avowed. He sighed and picked at a piece of imaginary flint on his sleeve. “It is extremely inappropriate to make such overtures towards my student, especially a student I train intimately with the staff and sword.”

“Bad for your reputation, I’m sure,” Micah murmured dryly, no doubt conveying his irony on the subject.  

“My reputation is already soiled.” Sachiel looked up slowly. “I’m sure you’ve heard several accounts by now.”

“Only a few.”

Something akin to dark humor danced behind the man’s eyes. “No, aside from my own warped principles, Lord Josiah watched me very closely when I was with you.”

Micah scoffed and looked away to control his initial response. “I’m assuming, with your actions the other evening, we are no longer student and master?” He looked back at Sachiel with a raised eyebrow. “Have I truly exhausted you to the point of an early termination?” 

“You always try my patience. Such a regular occurrence would not terminate our lessons,” Sachiel said fondly. “I’ve taught you all you need to know with the Unda form. As I said before, you are a natural.”

Sachiel only emphasized that particular belief at least once during every training session. It did not come to a surprise to Micah that Sachiel was forcing him to move on. The man thought he was ready for the next step. And apparently, that next step was Josiah. Even the _thought_ of having to train with the man set Micah’s teeth on edge. No matter, Josiah claimed he was not ready for such a step yet.

For a brief moment, it suddenly did not seem like a nonsensical decision on Josiah’s part. Considering…

Micah’s pulse skipped a beat.

Considering how ignorant Micah had been all this time to Josiah’s true powers.

 _Extinguish,_ indeed.

 _No_ , he reprimanded himself. He couldn’t get ahead of himself. He needed to find _proof._ He’d already jumped to conclusions about Josiah previously with the daemons. Before he even put pieces together, he needed to step correctly. He refused to acknowledge his assumptions. It just couldn’t be true.

“Besides, I prefer the view from over here far better than the professionalism of being your master.” Sachiel smirked as he regarded Micah with warm fixation.

“You’re all talk,” Micah whispered as he called the man’s bluff. “You’d never touch.”

The man’s shoulders stiffened and his hands curled on his lap. “Only if you initiated, Ezra.”

“Oh?” Micah inquired with intrigue.

Watching the man steadily, he deliberated. He was attracted to the blond councilman, even more so now with his sour relationship with Josiah. Who wouldn’t be attracted to Sachiel? The man was handsome, impressively skilled, and he emitted a natural and tantalizing air of seduction. There was something entirely primitive about Sachiel. It was similar to what he felt for Josiah, only, with Sachiel, it was less complicated, less hateful, less eternal, less passionate…

Upon the thought of Josiah, Micah immediately lost the magnetic pull to Sachiel.

He deflated. He hated that man…

He couldn’t even summon libido for others.

“You seem surprised at my attraction and that does not sit well with me,” Sachiel said. “You are, without a doubt, one of the most attractive men I’ve encountered. I’d imagine you’d have far more suitors if you did not have the fire lord breathing down your neck.”

“He is my Chosen,” Micah nearly spat the word. “But he is _not_ my consort.”

Sachiel raised his eyebrows, appearing very interested. “That is not the general impression in court. Quite the opposite.”

“The court always seems to have the wrong _impression_.” Micah sneered.

“Then I suggest that you make it very clear to the public, and to Lord Josiah, that you are not committed to anyone as of yet. I will certainly spread word myself. He will need to court you properly and publically, no?”

Micah considered the words very carefully.

Make Josiah work. Watch the man trip over his own feet only for Micah to reject him. He rather liked the idea.

“Now that I know you did not promise yourself to him, I confess myself a bit affronted,” Sachiel lamented.

Micah’s lips twitched. “Why is that?”

“Most others cannot resist my charms.”

The carriage came to an abrupt stop. Micah peered out the window, seeing nothing but darkness and tall buildings. It was still far too early for the sun to shed light on their surroundings. “I am not most others, Councilman Sachiel,” Micah responded cheerfully as he opened the door to their carriage. “Just as you’ve informed me about my swordsmanship skills, perhaps it’s time you took your _charms_ to the next level.”

Exiting the carriage proved eventful, for Sachiel laughed merrily behind him.

There was another carriage stopped along the same curb, though it was empty. Micah adjusted his sight, observing the tall buildings. While they were still in the thick of the capital, Micah knew they were towards the outskirts, just touching Region 5. He imagined the low-ranking cadets and the remaining military members stationed themselves at all corners of the capital. For the last defense, Josiah said.

As if it were an honor.

Micah knew better. Those inmates would not step foot within the walls of the capital. They’d have to fight their way through Josiah’s royal guard, a good portion of the military, and the highest-ranked cadets at the academy. If they were smart, they would head towards the outskirt regions. Which they were most likely to do anyway.

“An alarm sounded for the citizens of the capital and for Region 5.” Sachiel approached a tower and Micah followed at his heels. “They know to stay indoors until informed otherwise.” 

He led Micah through an entryway door and ushered him up a set of winding stairs. The tower’s entry was tiny and dark, lit only by old sconces hung on the cobblestone walls. As he walked up the stairs, he ran a hand against the stone, marveling at the raw build.

It didn’t take long to reach the top.

Sachiel opened the door at the top of the stairs. As they walked across the threshold, Micah found himself upon the wall that stretched alongside the capital’s borders. It wasn’t a secured wall. Not anymore. On the south side, a wide opening permitted unsolicited visitors. From Micah’s understanding, before the war with the Igni Empire, the wall was a complete and closed structure. The Unda capital had facilitated warriors to stand watch and defend the gates into the capital, screening every visitor and manually opening the gates for their passageway.

Now, they simply had guards monitoring the entrance.

“Is this some sort of consolation for being forced to stay behind? We get to revisit Unda’s historic war sights?” Micah asked bitterly. “Make us feel important?”

“Do you feel important standing where hundreds have died?”

Naturally, Sachiel put a sobering spin on Micah’s cynicism. The man had fought in the war, after all. He’d have a sense of honor standing on the partition and revisiting old ghosts.

“Not particularly. I’d rather be on the front lines with my team.”

Micah scrutinized a trio of cadets huddled near the edge of the wall. Some of the ‘ _leftovers’_ as Sachiel called them. They turned upon his advancement and Micah quickly identified Ladon as one of the cadets. Upon Micah’s advance, Calder’s son remained rather deadpan before turning his cheek and looking out across the kingdom.

Two other cadet students stood with each other, and a distance away, stood three military members. There was a large fire on top the wall, allowing Micah to study his temporary comrades. One of the cadets was biracial, an occurrence that wasn’t common, but not entirely uncommon either. The other cadet was of Igni descent.

As the Igni boy turned to look at him, Micah noticed the orange eyes that signified very high nobility. Josiah’s eyes. Throughout his childhood, Micah recognized his mother’s envy of the trait she did not inherit from her royal father.

“I see Lord Josiah had enough sway to force you to stay behind,” the boy stated with wary amusement. As Micah remained silent and unimpressed, the boy stiffened and looked away to hide his embarrassment for his over-familiarity. He then looked back at Micah sheepishly. “We haven’t met, but my name is Aedus. Lord Josiah is my cousin.”

_Cousin._

Micah hadn’t known there were many survivors of the Igni royal family other than his mother and Josiah, least of all a _cousin._ That would mean that Josiah had an uncle or aunt. He wondered how many of his family remained. Ember never spoke much about her family, seeming rather sour about her relatives. She _had_ mentioned her father had conceived several bastards, as his wife, the queen, died after giving birth to Josiah. The king was rather infamous for spending time with pretty women.

“Micah,” he introduced himself, extending a hand. At the boy’s faltering expression, Micah relented. “Though most call me Ezra.”

Aedus considered the hand doubtfully, clearly torn between bowing down low and taking the offered hand. After agonizing deliberation, he decided on a mix of the two. He shook his hand and inclined at the waist, throwing a cautionary look in Ladon’s general direction.

“A pleasure to finally meet your acquaintance, Your Highness. You know Ladon, I’m sure.” Micah specifically noticed the boy dropped the _prince_ title. “And this is…” With the hand that he’d used to shake Micah’s hand, he motioned toward the biracial student at his side. “This is E—”

“Names aren’t important.” Intentionally interrupting Aedus, the biracial cadet turned away from the edge of the wall and bowed low at the waist. “It is an _honor_ to make your acquaintance, Your Highness.”

“On the contrary,” Micah started deliberately, surveying the boy strangely. What an odd sentiment. “I’d very much like to know your name.”

The boy possessed blond hair, tanned skin, and yellow eyes. A unique blend of both races, something Micah hadn’t seen yet. Then again, Micah hadn’t seen much, if any, biracial children aside from the third-year cadet in his classes.

Josiah’s _cousin_ scoffed, appearing far too entertained for Micah’s liking. “His name is Ezra,” Aedus informed pleasantly.

Micah raised his eyebrow. “Ezra,” he repeated skeptically.

“My parents,” the boy—Ezra—supplied awkwardly. “Well, my mother, actually, was obsessed with the royal wedding and the royal heir.” Here, he looked at Micah pointedly. “She wanted a part of that fantasy. It’s quite embarrassing for me.”

“He never thought he’d meet the real Ezra, I’m sure,” Aedus said.

Not only did it feel surreal for Micah, but he could also imagine how uncomfortable the other man felt. He then wondered if there were more like him. More people like his mother who’d conceived a biracial child just because it was the current _trend._ Most of the biracial citizens had to be young. Micah was probably one of the oldest—save for any _oddities_ that may have transpired beforehand with the two races.

“No,” Ezra agreed quickly. “I never thought I’d meet you in person.” He looked at Aedus. “Never had much worry over my name quite like I do now.”

“Except for the constant ridicule growing up,” Aedus replied wickedly.

“Fortunately, names are not unique to just one person,” Micah soothed.

His attention fell on Sachiel, who’d moved to engage the three military members in hushed conversation. Micah found the female warrior most interesting. A tight, confining bun wrapped at the nape of her neck, bringing attention to her square jaw. She was the spitting image of Talia. Older, of course, yet her relation was unquestionable.

The woman met eyes with Micah and offered a small, barely there smile and inclined her head. Sachiel then snagged her attention once again.

“That’s Mira,” Aedus informed upon noticing Micah’s lingering attention. “She’s Talia Bay’s mother and a wickedly good warrior. I imagine she can keep up with Councilman Sachiel in combat if he doesn’t use his Element. She was renowned during the war.”

Talia never mentioned her mother was in the military or even a warrior during the Unda and Igni war. The only thing Micah knew of her mother was that she’d taught Talia how to fight with the sword. He also knew Talia’s parents were no longer together, but separated and remarried. Or, at least her father remarried.

“She’s not part of Calder’s royal guard?” Micah inquired.

Usually Josiah and Calder snatched up warriors who were especially talented.

“She’s a _woman_ and a _commoner_ ,” Ezra whispered, as if it were a scandal. Therefore, the gossip began. “Apparently, she wants nothing to do with the aristocratic society where she could chance upon her ex-husband. The only reason she stays stationed at the capital is to be close to her daughter.”

Micah was curious. Intrigued, actually. He would not press for answers, however. Gossip was below him, especially if it involved a member of his team. If he wanted to know more about Talia and her mother, he would approach Talia for information. The girl was always reserved. Always unhappy. Pressing her for answers would prove difficult.

“You are both third years?” he inquired, effectively changing the subject.

“How did you know?” Ezra inquired.

Micah looked at him through hooded eyes before pointing to the three bars on his collar. The boy flushed an ugly dark crimson, chuckling awkwardly.

“Ezra and I started on a team of eight during our first year,” Aedus informed with a wide, mocking smirk towards his uncomfortable comrade. “Our members gradually withdrew from the academy. Missions are unpleasant. We get assigned to a team we know nothing about.” 

“There can’t be many third-year teams remaining,” Micah surmised. “You must know some things about the teams you are assigned.”

“We know them, just not well enough to trust them fully in battle.”

As most high nobles chose to enter court at a young age, they voluntarily left behind the academy. Micah was actually surprised Aedus was still enrolled. Older students who remained at the academy generally wanted to graduate in their chosen field, or they desired status amongst the capital elite because they were born without the necessary connections that would allow them to advance further.

Micah found Concordia Academy silly for that very reason. It was prestigious and it employed highly versed instructors. Yet, they wasted resources on noble children who wanted to decorate themselves with a bit more prestige. Their kingdom could be far better off if they inducted unknown students and groomed them to make an impact on society.

He just couldn’t _fathom_ the amount of raw talent and undiscovered men and women just _waiting_ to get the chance to prove themselves. It gave him chills just imagining the missed opportunities.

“Standing watch does not consist of chitchatting like ladies of the court.” A hand fell on Micah’s shoulder. “Spread out. Watch the horizon. Ponder the cruelness of life or your current homework assignment.” 

Ladon snickered as Sachiel forced Micah and the others to disperse.

Micah followed the directive readily, already growing bored of the conversation. Pressing himself against the wall next to his half-brother, he stared out into the south horizon. At his back, the white mountaintops gradually peeked out from the darkness, reflecting majestically against the rising sun.    

In front of him, Region 5 stretched. His team was out there, most likely already at their destination.

He couldn’t see much of anything besides buildings and the wide, gleaming lake that stretched so far into the distance. Above, despite the sun’s eager arrival, the moon remained high in the sky. He admired the silvery pale hue it cast across the waters, comparing it to the glow that now encompassed every single man and woman in his proximity thanks to the entity he’d summoned.

Everyone but Josiah.

Josiah and his blood-like aura.

The setting sun on a scorching desert. Crimson, but laced with a very noticeable golden hue. _Gold_. Micah exhaled levelly, touching the silver-plated gold pendant in his pocket

Kai claimed he knew a Noir User, or more accurately, someone who knew a great deal about Noir Users and their powers. Their rituals. Fortunately, Kai readily agreed to bring Micah to the man without requiring any sort of explanation. They’d planned the expedition for this morning, though he imagined they wouldn’t be able to make their appointment even if Region 5 was only an hour or so away. 

No matter.

They would show up late and Micah truly did not care for the tardiness. He needed answers now more than ever.  

He didn’t know how long he stood against the wall next to Ladon, contemplating absolutely _nothing._ It felt good to forget the weight on his mind, to overlook his suspicions, his questions, and his _feelings._ All he did was stare into the distance of something much larger than his problems. The kingdom was so large. So many nooks and crannies. So many unknowns.

As the sky bled an orange-pink hue from the rising sun, and as the moon gradually disappeared, Micah noticed the wind beginning to pick up strength. He squinted into the advancing wind, feeling the breeze cut through his hair and massage his scalp. Hesitant at first, a gentle caress soon grew into a sharp and relentless onslaught. 

He spluttered, turning his cheek to brace himself.

_What?_

“ _Varuna_!” someone swore on the wall, their voice distant and broken against the wind. “Do you see that? Out there!”

Sand and wind prevented Micah from locating the source of fear straight away. Raising his arm, he shielded his face, peering out into the distance where the hand gestured.

The ground _moved_ and tunneled its way towards them.

In the distance, a loud explosion sounded.

Micah flinched horribly in surprise, crouching down and whipping his head towards the north. Near the palace, fire and smoke blossomed high into the air in an ugly cloud of grey, black, and wisps of fiery orange. Another explosion sounded. This one to the east. And they currently faced the south…

Grabbing the edge of the wall, Micah stood up and squinted into the wind. The earth continued to move towards them at breakneck speed. The impact would be disastrous.

“Get off the wall!” Micah screamed over the howling wind.

He and the others ran towards the tower’s entrance.

Someone in front of him threw open the door and Micah quickly followed suit. As he hit the first step down, the entire structure trembled violently under his feet. Someone grabbed him around the arm and flung him away just before everything turned black.

 

 


	7. Chapter Seven

**7\. Chapter Seven**

 

Using the back of his hand, Kai wiped the sweat off his forehead. Peering down at his white gloves, he determined he would need a new pair. Dirt and sweat stained the pristine white material, not to mention the crimson—turned maroon— tiny splotches of blood. He was beginning to resemble Egan. The boy could never keep his gloves clean. Kai had gotten in the habit of grabbing extra clean pairs from the infirmary and keeping a stockpile for his teammates. He always pretended he didn’t see Egan pluck a new pair almost weekly.

“Oui, Kai! How many?”

Kai narrowed his eyes across the landscape before turning and looking at his cousin from over his shoulder. Even without specifying, he knew exactly what the other boy meant.

_How many bodies have you dropped, Kai? Was it less than my count?_

“One,” he replied stiffly. “One body.”

 _Several alive—maybe six._ But Nereus wouldn’t care about that statistic.

Nereus simpered the way his father often did when containing intense glee. “Pity. I had four.”

Kai exhaled levelly and turned his shoulder on the boy that he could easily call a younger brother. They’d grown up together, after all. Even with a turned shoulder, he could feel the disconcerting smirk aimed pointedly at his backside and it grated on his senses.

Where had he gone wrong with Nereus?

Each day the boy inched steadily closer to shadowing his father.

Each day the boy grew further from Kai and the promise they shared with Wayde.  

Pacts sealed with salvia and blood encompassed most of their childhood. Recognizing the tyrant-like behavior of their fathers early in life, they made promises that they would never let their fathers control their actions. They never wanted to turn out like those silly men who followed their fathers like well-bred hunting hounds.  

Except, they’d gotten so close in forgetting that vow.  

Only, Nereus was far more susceptible of falling further, of becoming the mirror image of his despotic father. Kai had truly tried his best. He’d sided with Nereus and reassured him after combining his team with Micah. He’s reminded the young man about their pact at Wayde’s funeral service. He’s even tried to contact him after term break to get together with him, but to no avail. Nereus was completely and voluntarily under his father’s whims.

In the distance, he spied the approach of Viktor and Aiden, their postures normal, healthy. No wounds, then. To his immediate right, Cain and Talia both sauntered over, just as unharmed as their teammates.

Good.

They needed an easy win.

Without any sort of incitement, the others naturally congregated together on their way to the temporary base. He studied his teammates for a brief moment, recognizing the cohesiveness that hadn’t been there at the beginning of their conception. It truly impressed him how far they’d come. Originally separated by background, race, gender, and political standings, Kai hadn’t believed the group of nonconformists could successfully work well together.

But he saw it now.

He saw the imperceptible bonds of unity and coalition. The one responsible for constructing such bonds was the catalyst, the connector. All of it traced back to Micah. Even when he wasn’t present, there were traces of his presence in the way the team interrelated.

Egan built the strength of the team by becoming the foundation. Kai recognized the trait as a good leader, a powerful king, but it was also a dangerous reagent. After all, if the foundation crumbled, how well could the structure stay erect without it? If the structure remained standing… well… that would not be an indication of a good leader, but an _exceptional_ leader.

 “I’ve only seen two prisoners. Just two,” Viktor lamented on their way to the tents. “Personally, if I were in Region 0 and escaped, I’d go the opposite direction of the capital.”

“It’s good to know you’ve put yourself in the prisoners’ shoes,” Aiden remarked.

“Many of the prisoners have ill-intentions towards the king,” Kai contended. “It would make sense if they made the capital their first stop. After all, they were high on their victory at the prison. Why stop there?”

“Well, Micah definitely isn’t missing anything.”

At the mention of their captain, the mood plummeted. They were all tired, exhausted, thirsty, and hungry. Kai knew they wanted Micah with them. They _all_ wanted Micah with them.

The boy was a balm.

A soothing presence and an encouragement, even in his silence.

Ahead, at the village marketplace, the academy pitched makeshift tents. The team ducked underneath a large marquee to grab a cup from the long table of supplies. Unreservedly, they poured themselves some water from the bulky canteen. The day was cool in temperature, but a certain humidity hung in the early air.

“Good work with your team, Edlen.”

Kai turned towards the voice, focusing on both Instructor Candace, who’d issued the commendation, and Lord Josiah. Both men were standing underneath the marquee, inclined to watch the cadets return for their assigned reprieve.

“Thank you, Instructor Candace,” Kai responded dutifully.

Just over Candace’s shoulder, the contained prisoners occupied an open train compartment that was scheduled to travel back to Region 0. Several members of the military stood guard as they restrained the men and women with unforgiving bindings around their wrists. Some prisoners even appeared unconscious. _Or_ the cadets chose to execute a bit more brutality than necessary. While Lord Josiah gave his expressed permission to execute the prisoners, Kai imagined most of the victims hadn’t resisted arrest.

The majority had been unarmed, after all.

“You’ve spread them out well. Stranglers haven’t gotten through.” Candace raised his cup of water in mock salute. “I’d imagine you will be promoted to captain quickly.”

Kai could feel the others deflate upon that proclamation. While Candace indicated a positive turn of events for him, Kai wasn’t one to take credit for something others had accomplished. “I appreciate that, sir,” he replied, looking briefly over at Lord Josiah. As always, the man was impossible to read. “Although the credit must be given to Cadet Egan. He has prepared us for missions like these.”

Here, Lord Josiah gave a serpent-like smile.

Clearly humored by Kai’s response.

“Nonetheless, Egan is a prince now, Edlen,” Candace continued. “You do realize he will no longer be able to accompany you and the team on missions, yes?”

Kai reared in offense. “Princes often fight on the front lines, as Lord Josiah may recall,” he said pointedly. Josiah was several years Micah’s junior during the war and he’d still fought. “I believe Egan—” he cut himself off abruptly with frustration. “I believe _Ezra_ would die of boredom within the walls of a palace before he died in battle.”

“I would second that,” Viktor added quickly. He appeared just as affronted over the idea of Micah staying behind. “I don’t understand why he had to stay behind today.”

“Fortunately, _understanding_ the king’s orders is not a requirement for first-year cadets.” Lord Josiah’s tone was enough to turn Viktor’s face crimson with indignity. “The prince was to stay behind. That was final.”

Kai kept his features schooled, though he wanted to balk.

He knew enough about Calder and Josiah’s history to know the kings were nearly always at odds. If Lord Josiah were even the slightest bit indifferent about Micah attending the mission today, he wouldn’t have enforced Calder’s order. Either there was more to it or Lord Josiah simply wanted to exert his dominance over Micah.

Kai couldn’t imagine Lord Josiah trying very hard to succeed in that particular desire. Just standing across from the man proved challenging. Trying. Speaking to him was a whole other matter. Kai didn’t understand how Micah endured the man’s inebriating influence. Even Viktor, who was usually crass and outspoken, was mute and subdued from Josiah’s earlier remark.

Lord Josiah lacked Calder’s subtly and political pleasantness. Instead, he possessed a predatory aura, a darkness that was dangerous given the man’s high political standing.

If Micah interacted with the man uninhibited, there was a high chance they butted heads often. As such, Kai could understand why Josiah would find pleasure by establishing control over Micah.

It was an odd relationship.

Egan wasn’t very forthcoming about the topic of the fire Elemental. He wasn’t especially outspoken about the Chosen revelation either. If someone were truly unhappy about a forced bond or claim, they would express it. Egan simply sidestepped the entire issue by proclaiming it a political ruse and did not further the conversation by considering the possibilities of publically denouncing their status as Chosen.

“Ezra is…” Kai trailed off when the wind suddenly picked up.

Violently.

The pavilion flapped fiercely and strained against the hooks holding it in place. Voices bellowed exaggeratedly as articles of clothing and other loose possessions flew across the marketplace. Kai watched men run after their possessions, hoping to retrieve them, but they danced impishly from their reach.

Stepping out into the open, Kai squinted through the wind.

Above, the sky was relatively calm, no approaching storm clouds or anything out of the ordinary. _But the wind!_ He had never experienced something so sudden, so strong.

So peculiar.

Suddenly, people began screaming and pointing in the distance. As Kai turned in the specified direction, his blood ran cold. To the north, on the horizon, was the capital. He’d admired the view frequently throughout the morning, delighting in the fact he could see the buildings standing tall over the encompassing wall.

Now, though…

Dark, destructive smoke rose above the buildings like menacing clouds of doom. Only, the more he stared, the more he realized that a storm cloud really _was_ brewing above the capital. Lightning flashed repeatedly, emphasizing the sheer size of the cloud as it continued to expand into something entirely alarming.  

The smoke indicated the capital was under an attack.

The cloud and the wind, however, indicated something far more abnormal.

“The gods! They’re angry!” someone shrieked.

Abashed, Kai was inclined to think the same thing. He stared, his mind suspended in a state of disbelief and paralyzed to rational thinking. Standing against the strong wind, he watched as the world folded in on itself.  

_Micah._

He turned, happening to look at Lord Josiah, his perplexity only growing.

The man’s sharply intelligent eyes were vacant, empty.

A living and breathing mannequin.

Slowly, the Igni lord gazed at Kai, almost as if he did not recognize him. That unfamiliarity did not go away, but resignation and a sense of duty took prevalence. The Igni lord moved and started issuing orders for the academy members to board the train. Kai stared after him, not experiencing that familiar intimidation he always felt in the man’s presence. The man even walked different. The confidence was not overwhelming, nor was it particularly noteworthy.

Looking back to the capital, Kai found himself at a loss.

 

*** * * ***

“ _Ezra_.”

Micah struggled to wake.

“ _Ezra_.”

Serpentine and deeply resonating, the unfamiliar voice—like a distant memory— forcibly roused him from the darkness. Unforgiving rain and wind struck viciously at his face as he came back to consciousness, nearly drowning him from the merciless onslaught. Micah coughed, spluttered, raising a hand to cover his face from the assault.

Breathing proved difficult, as did observing his surroundings.

The rain was relentless.

Painful.

He couldn’t see. His face grew numb from the continuous and repetitive blitz attack across his skin. Curling his fingers into claws, he scraped his face, his insides squirming with both irritation and desperation.

 _“Stop!”_ Micah screamed hoarsely, his rage turning violent.

And then the rain stopped. The wind died. Slowly, he lowered his hands, his eyes turning cross-eyed at the long, narrow icicle posed just inches from his face. His eyes roamed higher, marveling at the suspended icicles and the ice-bridge that formed as a shield high above him.

It was beautiful.

Rain tapped on top the shield, possessing a sort of hesitancy. Thunder cracked unhappily through the air and rumbled the entire capital. His stomach tightened at the angry sound, and far above, the lightning veined across the sky, nearly blinding him with the intensity. In the moment of stillness, when the elements seemed to hush, he could hear crying. Screaming. Cries of disbelief and pain across the capital.

Suddenly, the rain and wind returned vigorously.

Rain poured from the skies and splintered through his bridge, shattering the delicate ice into a shower of pellets. Micah curled in on himself for protection, though he hadn’t had to worry about the icicles piercing him. The wind was strong enough to shove him cleanly across the wall. Unable to see his surroundings, he was surprised when he became weightless.

He was falling.

Scrambling, Micah flailed his arms, his fingers groping for something, anything.

_Anything!_

Hot, nearly scalding warmth suddenly encompassed him. Micah found his hand firmly—unnaturally— guided to reach high up in the air for the edge of the wall. Blindly, he grabbed for the ledge, feeling his legs dangle uselessly beneath him. Looking down, he spied the long drop to the ground, knowing he’d die instantly upon impact.

“Ezra!”

Sachiel’s face peered over the edge and he hastily grabbed Micah’s wrist and his other arm. He hoisted him over the edge with ease and settled him firmly on top the wall.

Or what was left of the wall.

Micah used Sachiel as a shield against the elements as he surveyed the damage. The wall crumbled into nothing a few feet from them. The gap that demolished the wall was several yards long containing no structure, nothing but large boulders and destroyed stone. He turned, looking towards the tower that enclosed the staircase.

A portion collapsed, yet the structure seemed to remain in good standing. Unfortunately, Micah spied a man underneath the collapsed ceiling. His uniform indicated he was one of the three military members.

Micah stood up shakily.

His boots planted firmly against the cobblestone wall, bracing against the high winds. As he approached the man, he revered the way the pale radiance around the body flickered uncontrollably, as if struggling to stay lit.

A fleeting, fragile thing, really.

Initially, he imagined the silvery, pale glow he’d seen around others were auras. And maybe they were, in a sense, but it was also more. The sight before him declared they were souls.

Micah stopped until the toes of his boots touched a rather large boulder. Gazing down at the crushed man, his eyes traced over the deformed skull and the reaching, desperate hand. The man’s fingers trembled wildly, twitching just as violently as his soul. Blood clouded the water, elegant and fancy swirls of crimson, before a gust of wind and rain shattered the image.

Then suddenly, with nearly an audible sigh of relief, the soul darkened.

And stayed dark.

Micah strained his eyes, unable to see much more than the endless void of an unlit soul. It hadn’t gone anywhere. It hadn’t done anything spectacular. Was that it? Was there no afterlife? No such thing as a soul moving on to the next destination? Just… nothingness? Like a fancy, electric light bulb just blinking out of existence when it burnt out.

“Ezra.” A hand grabbed his arm, pulling him away. The fingers abruptly withdrew with shock, however. “You’re _burning!_ ” Sachiel placed his hand behind his back with intentions of hiding his surprise.

Micah blinked the water from his eyes, realizing the rain did not feel so cold anymore, realizing that warm, scalding sensation that accompanied him off the wall remained a suffocating presence. It was noticeable, yet it wasn’t uncomfortable in the least. It was…

“ _No!”_

He turned as the cry rang across the grueling winds. Talia’s mother reached for the fallen man, unaware of his darkened and extinguished soul. She kneeled next to the man and her hand hovered over his face, assessing the way his skull split open from the impact of one of the fallen boulders.

“The capital is under attack,” Aedus stated the obvious as he and Ezra appeared beside Sachiel and Micah. He stared out into the capital. “I don’t even know what Element they are. Earth? Wind?”

Micah forced himself to look away from Talia’s mother and the dead man. Gazing out into the capital, he saw distant figures running through the streets, dressed entirely of black and destroying anything in their path.

It was mass hysteria.

Micah unsheathed his sword and made for the stairs.

“No,” Sachiel warned with a surprisingly stern and authoritative tone. “You are not going alone.”

“I’d hope you were all going,” Micah said as he stepped over the fallen man. He wondered if the dead man were the one to pull him away, but acknowledged he’d been behind the military man, about to follow him down the stairs. If someone hadn’t pulled him away in time, he would have probably shared the same fate. “Unless, of course, you need to tend to the prince.”

He looked pointedly at Ladon, who appeared shaken. The younger man had never been on a mission before. No matter how well Sachiel trained Ladon with the sword, it was pointless in real battle. Micah’s team could contest to that.   

It’s how they lost Wayde.

Sachiel did not argue, though he looked far from pleased.

As Micah turned his back, he heard the councilman shout out orders for the others to stay behind with Ladon. Ducking into the crumbling tower, Micah descended the stairs quickly, noticing the sconces on the walls brightening as he passed them. As the flames elongated eerily, they bounced off the cobblestone walls and created deep, unnerving shadows.

Although the tower was a reprieve from the wind and the rain, Micah did not feel protected. There was a disconcerting presence with him. It followed at his heels and raised the hairs on his neck with taunting persistence. Every time he turned, however, he saw nothing but Aedus and Sachiel following him.

Micah threw open the door, his sword gripped tightly in his palm. He sprinted through the deep puddles and across the streets towards the screaming, losing Sachiel and Aedus behind him. He was able to identify the general direction and distance of the threat before a loud, earsplitting siren sounded across the capital.

Several buildings and homes were reduced to rubble. Citizens bawled outside their home, their cries drowned out by the siren, by the rain and wind. Micah raced past, wanting to help find their buried loved ones, but sensing the urgent need to eliminate the threat first. Thunder shook the grounds of the capital and the dark clouds cast his surroundings in hues of grey and blue.

Depressing, morbid, and oddly serene at the same time.

Micah slowed his run as he turned down a desolate street. His senses screamed in warning, yet he appeared to be alone.

Suddenly, an invisible force knocked into him, sending him flying through the air. As he hit the ground, he rolled unceremoniously into the center of the street. Panting, he stared into the storm clouds above, wondering at the unfair advantage air Elementals had in the grand scheme of things. Air immediately became his least favorite Element.

Unlike water and fire, it actually affected him.

“There he is.”

Micah sat up, surveying the black-clad figure as it sauntered towards him. The man was dressed in form-fitting black attire with a headscarf wrapped entirely around his face. The only thing he revealed were grey eyes of the eastern culture. Grey eyes and the crimson, golden hued aura he emitted.

Not silver, but auburn. The same colored aura as Josiah’s.  

Gradually, Micah stood, eyeing the man with suspicion. From the corner of his eye, he witnessed more figures emerge from the shadows, surrounding him, eyeing him intently. It was if they were here for him specifically.

His sword lay a few feet from him, having slipped from his fingers during his _tumble._ He did not look at it, but he remained conscious of its distance. Gradually, he turned his head, noticing the several figures encircling him.

He could literally _feel_ their scorn. Their amusement.

Mockery.

At his slip of attention, the air Elemental threw out his arm, sending another strong gust of wind in Micah’s direction. This time, he stayed on his feet, but he was powerless to stop his boots from sliding across the wet cobblestones and toward the dark figure directly behind him. The Igni man arranged his posture eagerly, flames growing in his palms, readying to attack Micah.  

Only, the flames extinguished rather abruptly.

The figure stumbled ungracefully, as if in shock. “ _Agni_!”

It did not sound like the typical Igni curse, but rather a sharp accusation. As if Agni were personally responsible for his ineptness. To add insult to injury, flames unexpectedly consumed the fire Elemental whole and his high-pitched screams reverberated wildly across the street. No matter how hard it rained, the fire did not extinguish.

Micah allowed himself just a _second_ to process the implications of the sight before him. Just a moment in time when his suspicions clicked together.

The truth… it made him delirious with incredulity and anger.

Micah raced away from the burning man and back towards the air Elemental. Dodging to the side, he grabbed his weapon. As soon as his fingers curled around the hilt of his sword, all the others charged from their positions. They were all Elementals and they all channeled their Element in his direction.

Stuck in the middle, Micah knew he’d be annihilated. Even if Sachiel and Aedus stumbled into the street and quickly summoned their own Elements of fire and water, they would fail to take all of them at once.

There was only one option remaining.

While there were no longer any fire Elementals foolish enough to attack him with fire, Micah focused on the closest water Elemental. Turning away from the other attacks, he sprinted into the water assault. Immune to the Element, Micah merely felt the power tickle against his cheeks and pull wantonly at his hair and clothes. 

He emerged on the other side of the attack, much to the disbelief of his enemy. Blue eyes widened and Micah slashed his sword, beheading the Elemental. The blood that splattered across his face was warmer, thicker than the rainwater already soaking his skin. His eyes fluttered closed at the sensation washing through him.  

Hunger. Adrenaline. Bloodlust. 

As his eyes opened, he watched as the headless corpse slumped to the ground. The auburn presence that hovered around the man immediately levitated from the fallen body and hung in the air as a celestial mist. Distracted, as Micah watched the golden hue suddenly grow brighter and brighter, he felt something alien inside him stir at the sight. His hunger grew—intensified—to levels he had never experienced before.  

He wanted to reach out. Touch.

 _Possess_.

A sword came at him and Micah ducked instinctively, tearing his gaze away from the temptation. Harboring his bloodlust and honing it to his advantage, he easily kept up with his opponent. Judging from the blue eyes, he assumed it was another water Elemental. They’d realized he was immune to their powers.

“Not so much a pretty decoration, then,” the man groused. “For one so young, you have a few surprises up your sleeve. Though _he_ wouldn’t have it any other way, would he?”

Micah slammed the hilt of his sword into the man’s ribs with renowned vengeance. As the man bowed forward from the blow, Micah flipped his blade and sliced it across the man’s throat. His blade cut through the black clothing easily and slit the skin like butter.

Blood spurted and the water Elemental quickly cupped his neck, using his Element to seal the wound at least temporarily. He tumbled away from Micah, like a coward, only, he lifted his hand and gave a signal.

Micah whirled around, spying a wall of stone racing towards him at breakneck speed.

It would crush him. Undoubtedly.

Just before it squashed him against the brick store, he bent down low and threw up his arms defensively. He reached for Element, hoping, _praying_ that it wouldn’t remain stubborn and elusive. He needed it. He _relied_ on it.

A wave of energy and fatigue hit him hard.

It was only a small price to pay.

When the impact did not come, Micah lowered his arms and stared at his warped reflection in a sheet of gleaming ice. He scoffed in disbelief. It had worked. Nearly at the last second too, as he was pinned against the store and only a foot or two away from the ice and stone. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips against the ice, thanking his Element and panting deliriously. He closed his eyes into the cold, feeling the phantom lick of exhaustion ripple across his limbs.

“Mortals. All so _weak._ ”

The voice from his enemies roused him from his relief and reignited his anger.

They were, weren’t they? Mortals? Yes, they were weak. And they were susceptible to becoming mere toys and sources of amusement. Easily discarded, broken. Insignificant. Compared to daemons, gods, creatures of power, mortals were _disposable._

Somewhere in the distance, someone screamed his name, assuming the worse.

Sachiel.

Micah’s limbs were drained. He could feel exhaustion pull at his conscious after conjuring ice of such magnitude. Still not accustomed to using his Element, he knew there would be a backlash to his person. Frankly, he didn’t think he would be able to conjure anything more. Should he feign death? Injury? They already thought him dead. Perhaps they would retreat.  

Craning his neck back, Micah considered the pelting rain. His head tilted with consideration. Maybe he couldn’t summon or conjure ice, but converting something that was already present was another story. It was familiar to him.

He laughed.

Fools.

Mortals had their own powers.

His hands trembled with excitement and rage as he hoisted himself up and on top of the large boulder that they’d thrown at his unprotected back. Planting his boots firmly on top the earth, he stared down at the black-clad figures. Most of them had turned their attention to Sachiel and Aedus, both of whom were harnessing their own Elements in defense.

“Varuna has betrayed you,” Micah crooned softly.

Somehow, they heard. Over the rain and the siren, they sensed him at their back. They turned, their eyes relaying their disbelief at his survival. Micah smiled an ugly smile as the rain came down harder upon his proclamation. The ground became saturated and the streets gradually began to flood. His pulse hammered against his chest.

It was real. All of it was real. Varuna was real.

_Keegan… they were real! You were right all along!_

He lifted a hand, reaching towards the sky with unbridled excitement.

“His element becomes my weapon.”

Judging from their postures and their unimpressed auras, they were underwhelmed. They didn’t _quite_ feel the way the rain steadily turned harder, sharper. They certainly were unprepared when large icicles impaled three of their comrades through the skulls.

Micah watched as the red-gold hues expelled from the human corpses, leaving behind the flickering silver souls of the _mortals._ Micah became further chagrined at the sight, knowing that he’d killed the mortals but not necessarily the parasite attached to them.

He leaped from the boulder and sprinted towards the water Elemental from earlier. The man continued to cup his throat, sealing his throat wound until he could see a Healer, all the while, keeping a hand in the air to ward off the falling icicles. Though he was a good distance away, Micah reached for the man.

Manipulating the water Element to his favor, he froze the water holding the man’s throat together. Slowly, the throat closed, froze, and the man grunted with surprise. As Micah drew back his sword and beheaded the man, the neck column was already frozen. As it landed on the ground, it shattered into pieces.

Dancing and pivoting, he threw up the water on the ground with his feet, freezing it on impact and throwing it to another unsuspecting victim. Ice easily embedded into the chest cavity, dropping the enemy and allotting for a slow, painful death.

He faced the air Elemental, smirking when the man proved efficient enough to block the ice attack from the sky.

“You’ll have trouble dropping me, mortal.”

Mortal.

Mortal.

Micah clenched his teeth in a feral grin and threw a wall of ice towards the man. As predicted the air Elemental blocked it, but Micah already conjured another wall of ice from the deep puddles of water. He caged the man, confusing him in the maze-like structure. Then, as the air Elemental forced the walls away from him, shattering them on impact, Micah surprised him with a shot from underneath.

The puddle underneath the air Elemental quivered before elevating from the ground. Turning to a sharp icicle, it pierced the man through the groin and all the way up through his throat. Micah advanced closer to the dying mortal vessel, his vision tunneled, his bloodlust overwhelming.

He couldn’t see anything but the need to pulverize.

Quickly, he snatched the red-gold aura before it could float away.

Surprisingly, his fingers did not go through the mist.

An earsplitting screech resonated high above the siren. The aura—soul— twitched and squirmed in Micah’s grasp, though he was quick to keep a solid hold. He was wholly unaware when the others quickly retreated and the rain and wind tempered off _abruptly_.

His attention was only on the object in his hands. Holding it, he experienced a rush of power and authority. The being wasn’t so powerful, was it? It struggled in his grasp, fervently hoping to get away.

Micah held on to it with surprising control. “Just mortals,” he whispered to himself. The soul continued to emit loud, earsplitting screeches. Subconsciously, he recognized shadows darkening around him and the color bleeding from the world. In a grey haze, Micah brought the entity closer to his face, controlled by a darker, more primitive part of his consciousness.

_Yes, yes!_

“You will not!”

The sharp command penetrated through Micah’s haze with such startling authority, he flinched and opened his fingers up around the soul.

She was displeased. As if someone other than himself was controlling his body, Micah found himself falling to his knees with shame. Her sharp reprimand burned across his skin and inflicted a deeper regret than he could comprehend. It was the same female voice he remembered arguing with Josiah.

His eyes rose.

A woman stood just feet from him. Her long hair was white in color, seamlessly blending into the grey and colorless environment. Quickly, he took in his surroundings, noticing that time seemed to stand motionless. Frozen and utterly barren. His eyes refocused on her, unable to look away long, stirred by a foreign remembrance. That sorrow he experienced the last time he heard her voice returned with wicked vengeance.

Sorrow and heavy regret.

Her anger only made his chest hurt so much more.

“I know you,” he breathed in reverence. “And it hurts. So much.” As he regarded her, moisture dripped from his drenched hair and down his upturned face. He wanted to reach out and touch her. To see if she was real.

The cold mask of porcelain softened and she appeared forlorn. “We have never met formally, Ezra. You do not know me.” Her eyes—pale in color—rose above his kneeling form. “Leave us now. He is safe.” She lifted a hand and waved it. As she did, Micah felt the scalding warmth he’d become accustomed with suddenly leave him cold.

“No,” he mumbled softly. “I know I’ve never met you, but I know you. It is a shadow of remembrance and a torment of emotion.”  

She approached and crouched down before him. Her fingers reached out and touched his upturned face as if he were fragile. “Those feelings, those emotions, were gravely misplaced and are not yours to feel.” She had troubled features, mirroring his angst with perfect clarity. “Ezra, never give into those feelings you know not to be yours. Ever.”

“Who are you?”

A ghost of a smile crossed her features before her touch, her image, gradually disappeared.

As she vanished, the color returned to the world.

Time resumed.

Sachiel crossed the distance with Aedus trailing closely. He lowered himself in front of Micah, occupying the same space as she had previously. “Are you unharmed?”

The councilmember’s enthusiasm and disbelief outweighed any concern in his tone. Through glazed eyes, Micah gazed at him blankly, trying to gather himself and his senses. Vaguely, he realized both men were looking at him with incredulity.

“You’re an Elemental,” Sachiel accused. If he had his assumptions before, he certainly did a good job appearing taken aback. “Ice,” he specified with surprise. “Ezra?”

“It’s a work in progress,” Micah admitted, allowing Sachiel to assist him off the ground. “Are they all gone?”

People started to swarm the streets with hesitancy. Sunlight bathed their surroundings, shining with so much radiance, it was almost impossible to imagine they’d just experienced torrential downpour. They were talking amongst each other and looking towards Micah. It occurred to him they would have witnessed the battle from inside neighboring buildings.

He felt a migraine start behind his eyes. This time, it was from exhaustion and no lingering half-uncles.

“Yes, they are gone. We need to go to the palace—”

“I need to get away,” Micah cut Sachiel off abruptly. “I need to rest.” He looked away from the man’s imploring gaze, his body trembling madly. He didn’t know how long he could stay upright. “I want to see my team back safely.”

Sachiel and Aedus shared a look. “Aedus will accompany you back to the academy,” Sachiel said quietly. “Someone will retrieve you later, I have no doubt. Rest while you can, Ezra. Your father will want to see you.”

His hand touched the small of Micah’s back, a soothing, yet nearly claiming gesture in the eyes of the public. Micah did not argue with the man, nor did he care what his intentions were at the moment. Instead, he hurried from the scene, his distant relative falling at his heels. His Element stretched him thin, yes, but the questions and the dawning realizations ate gluttonously at his mental state.

He had a lot to accomplish.

His most pressing obstacle?

Josiah.

*** * * ***

 

Surveying the scene below, he hung, suspended, upside down. His displeased eyes tracked the figure hurrying away from the crowd of gathering mortals. Such a springy little thing. Aside from the physical beauty that set him apart from other mortals, he didn’t appear to be especially remarkable. Nonetheless, the events of the attack certainly proved otherwise.

He was far more dangerous than they could have imagined.

Some, especially the younger ones, would not realize the depth of that threat before it was too late. But he did. The others would treat it as a game, far more interested in playing with a favored mortal than actually comprehending the severity of the situation.

Blitz attacks clearly did not work.

Subtlety had to be spun carefully to destroy the boy’s platform.

Now would be an opportune time to spin it, for the mortal’s _guardian_ remained looking the other way. With a pleased hum, he traveled above the capital, nurturing and producing enough webbing to create chaos. It would take time, but he was a patient god.

 

 


	8. Chapter Eight

**8\. Chapter Eight**

 

The palace allotted him only a moment’s time with his team before summoning him.

Abducting him, more like.

Fortunately, Region 5 was not a long distance away. When his team arrived back at the academy, they claimed they’d seen the capital’s attack from their location and boarded the train back immediately. Besides that brief interaction, Calder’s royal guards entered their quarters unannounced and escorted him from the academy.

He hadn’t even had the opportunity to ask how the mission went.

Obligated to make an impromptu decision, Micah requested Kai’s company. The boy remained clammed up, silent for most the carriage ride to the palace. He’d clearly expected Micah to fill the silence to what was transpiring. Micah, meanwhile, had his head buried so deep in the mess that was Josiah. He hardly had time to come up for air.

Kai’s stubbornness did not last long.

“ _Varuna!_ Will you tell me what happened?” Kai demanded irritably.

“Chaos happened,” Micah responded promptly. “I’m more interested in knowing how the mission went. Did the team do well? Were there any areas that needed improvement?”

“It was uneventful, the others did well, and there are no areas in need of improvement,” Kai replied shortly. “Interestingly enough, as soon as we stepped off the train, we heard the gossip. Why is the palace summoning you? What, exactly, did you do?”

“No areas in need of improvement?” Micah repeated. “I doubt that.”

Edlen sent him a stern look. “What did you _do_ , Egan?”

Micah cast the boy a sidelong glance, choosing to end the game. “I used my Element in battle.”

It frustrated him. His Element. It wasn’t as if could feel proud of himself for what he’d accomplished today. It had been purely instinctual and unconscious. He’d been powerless to stop it from taking precedence over his actions. Fortunately, the turnout worked out in his favor, he just wished he could have more control over it. Next time, he may not be able to stop the power drain from an unneeded and menial task.

Upon Micah’s admission, Kai stilled. Realization came to the boy quickly. The team knew about his ability to conjure ice as an Element. Though they sensed Micah’s reluctance in discussing the topic, they were intrigued with the notion of an unknown Element. _Everyone_ was intrigued over an unknown Element.

Kai shook his head. “You see what happens when I’m not around?”

Micah turned to look out the window, subdued.

Distracted.

“Calder will have a conniption,” he murmured distantly.

“Conniption? Calder? The whole capital is chattering.” Kai hesitated. “Maybe it was for the best. Those who wavered between supporting and resisting your coronation will readily follow you to the throne. Do you know who was responsible for the attack? Many say it was earth and air Elementals, but they wouldn’t dare attack the capital.”

Micah’s eyes narrowed.

His mind raced.

Josiah had said something similar about people following men who displayed remarkable power. That man. He didn’t truly… Had he planned this? “I need to see your acquaintance,” Micah said, sidestepping the question. “The one who studies Noir Users. As soon as Calder is finished today, we need to visit him.”

“And here I thought you asked me to come along because you wanted my company,” Kai mocked. Having no reaction from Micah, he continued. “We were scheduled this morning and missed it. He doesn’t appreciate unannounced visits—”

“I’m sure he can make an exception for the prince, no?”

Kai was silent for a moment. When he replied, repugnance caused his tone to come out pinched. “You’re dropping titles now?”

“If it gets me what I want, I will readily declare my title.” When he recognized the sheer arrogance in his words, Micah pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated. The sooner he could deal with Josiah, the better. He was too on edge to act properly. “I apologize, Kai. I have things I need answered urgently. Only he can help me.”

“If those questions are so urgent, Micah, perhaps it’s time you share it with someone. Keeping it contained will only drive you mad.”

Turning away from the window, Micah smiled thinly. “Perhaps it’s too late for that.”

“Well you and I know that,” Kai said disparagingly, giving Micah a once over. “Let’s try to prevent the public from finding out how unstable you are as well. Yes?”

The carriage stopped and Micah withheld a sigh as a guard promptly opened his door. No time for responses. No time for recollections or considerations. Fortunately, while he waited for his team to return to the capital, he’d had enough time to recover his wits. Recover from battle, that is. He had yet to come down from the gravity of his recent discoveries, however.

Facing Josiah would prove challenging.

Calder’s personal guards abruptly surrounded both Micah and Kai as they exited the carriage and walked up the palace stairs. The exaggerated protection was clearly for show. Micah highly doubted there would be any further attacks today.

Before he entered the palace, he ran a critical eye across his surroundings.

There weren’t any demolished buildings near the palace from the attack, yet he knew there was destruction just to the north. The heaviest damage was near the south wall, the exact location Micah and the others had guarded earlier. Currently, there were masses of people gathered outside the palace, held back by members of the military and royal guards. Usually the palace was open to the public with designated sections reserved just for the citizens.  

Today, it appeared as if Calder were closing the doors.  

“They’re here to catch a glimpse of you,” Kai assumed. “You’ve become a legend.”

Posed motionlessly on the steps, Micah examined the crowd of citizens. They craned their necks around the obstructive guards and stared back at him with inquiry, curiosity. Some expressed surprisingly clear dislike and disdain. Some marvel and unguarded worship. Aside from the halls of the academy, this was the first time he stood amongst the public as Ezra. It felt strangely revealing.

“A legend?” Micah repeated with disbelief. The people didn’t appear too smitten. Quite the opposite. “I believe they’re here to implore for assistance. Cleaning and restoration would be a good project for the cadets at the academy, don’t you think?”

“Prince Ezra!” someone yelled in the crowd. “Welcome home!”  

Someone else heckled cruelly in response.

Then another jeered back at the heckler.

A heavy pause festered into a tangible haze of austere tension. Micah watched, incredulous, as a riot suddenly broke out amongst the crowd of citizens. Violence erupted over _him._ Over merely existing and standing solitary. Doing absolutely nothing. Exceptionally intrigued, yet at the same time disturbed, Micah barely comprehended as the guards closed around him and physically hoisted him up the stairs.

“Barbarians.” Kai’s insult barely reached his ears over the mass of guards between them.

“I can walk,” Micah informed wearily.

Hands released him as soon as they were safely inside the palace. Ruffled and exasperated, Micah gathered his composure by leisurely readjusting his uniform and securing his sword holster across his back.

“Your Majesty has requested your presence in the throne room. Alone,” one of the guards—the captain— informed. His dark gaze assessed Micah before looking pointedly at Kai.

“Are the councilmembers already in attendance?” Micah inquired.

Up ahead, the throne room’s double doors were closed and the hallways eerily empty. Micah turned back toward the tall Unda warrior, noting the pinched nostrils, a minuscule sign of the man’s annoyance.

“I believe so, yes,” the Unda male answered.

“Then I request Kai’s attendance,” Micah countered coolly. The man remained unsurprised at the request. “Let’s not keep Calder waiting over such silly pretenses, no?”

The captain of Calder’s royal guard wavered for a fleeting moment. His attention jumped over to his comrades before refocusing sharply on Micah. The silver-white hue around the man flickered vexingly, a sharp contrast to the impassiveness of his face. Evidently, taking orders from an uncrowned prince did not sit well with the man. Micah could only imagine the sentiments running through his mind.

“Very well, Your Highness,” the man replied as he motioned the others forward.

“What are you doing?” Kai asked quietly as they followed Calder’s personal guards. “There are stipulations in place for a reason, Egan.”

“Are you against being a part of this, Edlen?”

At Micah’s casual and apathetic tone, Kai balked. “You know I’m not. I—”

“Will accompany me inside,” Micah finished, standing tall and waiting for the double doors to open without looking at Edlen. “I need someone I trust at my back. I’m not entirely conversant on the Royal Council and their politics. I can use another set of eyes.”

The blue-clad guards entered the throne room and lined up shoulder to shoulder on either side of the aisle. Micah watched as they bowed their heads, waiting for him to pass. A sign of submission and reverence, though not necessarily voluntary. Walking between the wall of guards, Micah emerged from the other side, nearly overwhelmed with the activity inside the throne room.

There were long tables on either side of the carpeted aisle, all situated close to the throne. Close to the king, yet not on the same level, not quite to his standing. Six chairs were at each of the tables, though only a few people currently occupied them. Micah assumed the Royal Council sat there when they were in session.

Alongside the perimeter of the room, crimson-clad guards stood motionlessly.

Josiah’s guards.

To the side of the throne room, pieces of long fabric lay underneath eight prone figures. Most of the assembled councilmembers stood near the bodies, unabashedly ogling the corpses with blatant and morbid intrigue.

Upon his entrance, the attention quickly focused on him.

Under their stares, Micah became a peculiar specimen. An unknown. He identified a few faces of the councilmembers, amused there were an equal number of Igni and Unda members. Two were women, one Unda—Cain’s mother—and the other Igni, while the remaining ten members were males.

Micah turned toward the raised dais, encountering Josiah sitting upon his throne.

Josiah watched him attentively, orange eyes bored, yet intent. Micah’s pulse quickened underneath the unfathomable scrutiny, feeling small, feeling insignificant. Across from Josiah, he’d never felt so inconsequential. Not after what he discovered about the man. Not after he realized what was _inside_ Josiah.

Upon recognizing his pathetically weak state of mind, Micah forced confidence through the flimsy curtain of self-consciousness and doubt. He readjusted his stance and lifted his chin defiantly. Even from a distance, Micah observed Josiah’s pupils dilating predatorily. Leaning his chin upon his hand, the man smirked at Miah’s nonverbal challenge. Josiah wouldn’t know what spurred Micah’s defiance, but he clearly found it engaging.

“Ezra.”

Calder approached him from the side, effectively garnering Micah’s attention.

A certain stillness engulfed the throne room, no illusion of privacy whatsoever. Micah imagined most of his interactions with his father, from this point forward, would be public. The Royal Council was now a part of their family, after all.

“It appears as if you have been withholding some remarkable information from me.” Calder stopped near the closest council table, his attention immediately falling on Kai, who kneeled low in reverence. “Mr. Edlen.”

“I’d like him to stay,” Micah intervened before Calder could order Kai’s evacuation.

At Micah’s directive, Calder inclined his head, observing him thoughtfully. He had the authority to put Micah in his place by denying him. With so many figures of authority observing their interaction, Calder should have done just that.

Instead, he smiled thinly and spun it expertly in his favor. “You show an aptitude of choosing the right allies. The Edlen family has been close supporters of the royal bloodline for generations. You may rise, Mr. Edlen.” He angled his body toward the councilmembers but kept his eyes on Kai. “Considering the circumstances, it is a pleasant surprise your partnership formed so naturally.”

 _Considering the circumstances_ , Micah imagined, meant Calder was more than aware of Kai’s segregation amongst the nobles and even his family. He’d probably heard the slander against Kai. He’d probably formed his own opinions as well.  

“Kai and I have a common adversary,” Micah informed stiffly, his eyes settling just over Calder’s shoulder and toward the uptight members of court.

“Do not assume your friends from foes until faced with a drawn sword,” Calder advised serenely, easily recognizing Micah’s comment as an attack on the nobles at his back. “Perceptions are often times misleading.”

“Perceptions backed by actions _are_ declarations of drawn swords,” Micah rebutted, standing firm. His eyes found the two Edlen men, huddled together. “I do not take kindly to those who issue a challenge like that.” He spoke specifically on Kai’s treatment.

“And yet, being a ruler of a kingdom often requires forgiveness, does it not?”

Micah recognized the question as a rhetorical one, not contingent upon a reply.

Calder, having moved toward the corpses, stopped his advance in order to glance at the raised dais. “After all, I readily forgive you and your uncle for keeping your abilities secret. It was a pleasant revelation to hear this morning amidst all the destruction and chaos that transpired across the capital.”

Micah did not look at Josiah, though he felt the man’s endless scrutiny.

“An _ice Elemental_ ,” Calder breathed.

The attention around the throne room refocused on him with razor sharp intensity. From the guards across the room to the councilmembers, Micah found himself the object of concentrated examination. Calder clearly had a flare for the dramatics. Proclaiming relation to Micah smartened and preened his already primp plumage. His _son_ was an ice Elemental. He was unafraid to declare it aloud to everyone.

That was a relatively new occurrence for Micah.

Parental pride.

Nonetheless, in this instance, it wasn’t a simple case of a parent expressing their pride over a child. When was simplicity ever the case with Micah’s parents? His _family_? Calder’s intentions were politically driven and oppressed with questionable intentions.

There was a possessiveness to his tone, to his gaze. Micah’s spine stiffened as he speculated the consequences of kindling Calder’s interest. While Calder conceived Micah for purposes of furthering his reach for dominance across the capital, this revelation outweighed the advantage of a simple biracial game piece.

“It is curious,” a new voice announced. “Would other biracial children of powerful Elementals exhibit the same gifts? Or is the prince a concentrated case?”

The elder Igni woman asked the question. Looking at her, Micah compared her to Ember’s mirror image. She was similar to his mother in many ways, though the several fine lines around her orange eyes set her apart indefinitely.

“It is a concentrated case, I am certain,” Josiah informed idly. “There are several cases of children born to both water and fire Elementals after the war. So far, there has been no talk of conjuring ice as an Element.”

“What of immunity to water and fire Elementals?”

Josiah’s response did not come for quite some time. “That I do not know.”

Micah kept his attention diverted from the Igni king, choosing instead to watch his father across the room. The smugness across Calder’s face seemed to dim as he gazed down at the mutilated corpses. “Be that as it may, it is very likely the attack was centralized on assassinating you today.” Calder looked up at Micah. “While we experienced casualties in the capital and several demolished structures, the perpetrators flocked to _you_.”

Kai shifted next to him, clearly upset that Micah kept the specifics of today’s battle to himself in the carriage. Glancing at the boy, Micah applauded Kai’s indifference. The nobles didn’t need to glean any sort of fraction in their partnership.

“You have retrieved the bodies,” Micah stated bluntly. “Why?”

“Identification.” As if Calder’s answer was a suggestion to reconvene, the standing councilmembers gradually approached the tables and took their seats. One by one, they looked at Micah, giving the impression he was on trial. Much to Micah’s amusement, the Unda councilmembers sat on the right side of the aisle, leaving the Igni members to the left. Always a segregation.

Micah advanced further down the aisle, intentionally placing himself between the two separate bodies of govern. Introductions were in order, however, Calder appeared to have no inclination to introduce him to the councilmembers today.

He caught Sachiel’s eyes.

“Who do you believe was behind the attack today, Your Highness?” Sachiel inquired. 

Micah did not bat an eyelash. “I imagine you’ve already come to the conclusion.”

Sachiel smirked. “If you don’t mind, we’d like to hear your account. You dealt with them personally. Aedus and I were mere afterthoughts.”

Were they testing him?

Micah had a very good assumption of _what_ attacked him today. His assumption relied heavily on his ability to see souls, however, leading to the impossibility of the councilmembers knowing the truth.

“The public says the gods were upset,” Calder said, snaring Micah’s complete attention. Stopping next to Sachiel, he clasped his hands behind his back. “It certainly seemed that way. The elements were violate, especially the rain and the wind.”

Seeing souls aside, Micah supposed a competent individual could draw steady conclusions. Calder merely pointed out the obvious, though they couldn’t _possibly_ believe the gods were behind the attack. Micah had to gauge their reactions and steer them in a different direction. “Fire and earth were present as well,” he explained.

“Only through agents. Sachiel tells me a fire Elemental went up in his own flames. Agni was watching over you.”

Micah bristled and curled his hands into fists. “You’re insinuating Varuna and Vayu were responsible for today’s attack?” He gazed across the throne room at the deadpanned expressions. “I imagine Varuna is far too busy with his own life complications to worry about mortal affairs.”

“The legend of Varuna indicates he is rather… fickle,” Josiah said slyly.

Micah kept his attention on the councilmembers as he replied to Josiah. A childish tactic, but something he needed to do in order to establish stability. “Even so, I haven’t done anything to warrant the ire of the gods.”

“Is that so?”

He stilled as the distorted question reverberated across the throne room. His eyes roved across the members of council, recognizing their lack of reaction. They hadn’t heard it.

And why should they have?

The voice was Micah’s personal ghost.

The hairs on his neck prickled unpleasantly as raspy laughter echoed brokenly in his ears. Slowly, Micah turned his head, finding the murky figure in the corner of the room. Similar to the first time he’d summoned the entity, its form flickered disjointedly, as if stuck between realms and time. Micah remembered it gaining form after consuming his blood, but none of that renowned strength seemed to present itself in front of him now. The entity was back to where he was before.

“Summoning me, in itself, would unsettle the gods.” The entity blinked out of existence before appearing directly beside Micah.

Familiar trepidation sunk heavily into Micah’s limbs, weighing him down with unrestrained terror. He stared straight ahead, forcing himself not to outwardly react to the entity’s unnerving proximity. In front of all these members of the Royal Council, Micah would appear unstable.

“I require substance,” it hissed into his ear. “I wish to consume all that purity you hold so possessively within you.”

A cold hand curled around his neck, instantly causing him to suffocate.

Time seemed to stop, similar to what had transpired after the attack with the white-haired woman. Only, it was much smaller in scale and the colors did not bleed from the world.

“Regrettably for you, that purity belongs to _me._ ”

Upon Josiah’s words, the hand withdrew from his neck as if burned. The atmosphere grew heavy, sluggish, and Micah just barely caught the entity facing Josiah in surprise. A hiss of frustration and disbelief sounded from the shadowy figure before it abruptly fled the throne room. And then time resumed normally.

Micah blinked rapidly.

“Ezra?”

“From an uninformed perspective, it would be easy to blame it on the gods.” Micah found his voice and his rationality returning quickly. He looked at his father.  “Though I’m partial to lean towards a group of radicals. There were Elementals from each kingdom rebelling against either monarchy or something more specific.” At his response, the council’s questioning stares abruptly left their expressions.

Obviously, he recovered well enough.

“Good answer,” Calder praised.

Josiah’s observation felt like sharp and unrelenting pinpricks on his skin. There was an unusual friction suspended in the air, enticing Micah to look the man’s way. The man wanted Micah to give him attention, give him recognition for chasing away the entity, but Micah refused. He could avoid Josiah as long as Josiah continued to avoid speaking the truth. Never before had Micah wanted to leave the man’s presence as much as he did at that very moment.

He was uncomfortable and ignorant to the depth of the situation. Josiah’s ability to not only _see_ the entity, but also chase it away simply reinforced Micah’s assumptions.

Moreover, it increased his anxiety by a tenfold.

“Have you identified the water Elementals from the attack?” Micah forced himself back into the conversation, focusing only on the council, only on his father.

“Or what was left of them?” Sachiel countered with amusement.

“We have,” Calder informed. “They are known nobles who went missing several years ago.” The king moved closer to Micah. “We had reason to suspect they left the capital to join the Noir Users. Today only confirmed it.”

Noir Users.

Micah hadn’t anticipated the court concluding the Magi were responsible for the attack today. Grudgingly, he realized the practicality of the conclusion. When things did not seem rational or understandable, ordinary men and women blamed magic. Of course, their conclusion may be partially accurate. The hosts may have been Noir Users.

“Are you aware of their reach?” Micah asked Calder. “How large are their numbers?”

Josiah may have destroyed the majority of their numbers a few years after Micah was born, but that was ages ago. Undoubtedly, their numbers have increased, as had their thirst for vengeance. Last term with Keegan only proved as much. Josiah claimed there were a small number remaining, but Micah was curious to hear what Calder had to say.

“Your uncle eliminated their numbers near extinction over fifteen years ago,” Calder said, unknowingly astounding Micah with his knowledge on the subject. And so public, too, in front of the Royal Council. “We assumed the problem was taken care of. Just recently, as you recall, they made a reappearance.”

Is that what Josiah and Calder considered it?

Population control? Removing the problem before it took shape? 

Did they ignore the fact that Josiah committed mass genocide on groups of men and women without cause? From the books Micah read, the Noir Users were traveling nomads. Yes, their powers were dark as were the practitioners. However, from Micah’s understanding, they didn’t go out of their way to wreak havoc across the kingdoms. They kept to themselves mostly.

Twenty years ago, their alleged crimes were no greater than ordinary Elementals who did not practice Noir Magic. Only, the public exaggerated the crimes the Magi had committed, fearing abilities they could not comprehend. As much as Micah hated to admit, the Noir Users were unfairly treated.

However many remaining there may be, the public created the Noir Users of today. Angry. Vengeful.

“They targeted you and your uncle for what happened to their people several years ago,” Calder continued. “As a result, your friend passed away—”

“Keegan passed away unnecessarily, yes,” Micah interrupted. 

_Your friend._

How very detached and impersonal.

Calder paused at the correction, most likely deliberating if he should address Micah’s tone or overlook it. “You are being targeted,” he said in way of changing the subject entirely. “As a result, there will be tighter laws across the capital.”

“Tighter laws in which way?”

“Books on Noir Magic will be destroyed. Anyone in possession will face severe consequences. Those who have any sort of connection to Noir Users will be under review.”

Society already looked down on Noir Magic, already feared it and whispered about it with unrestrained dislike. Informally, everyone frowned upon those who practiced it. One did not practice Noir Magic anywhere near the public, especially in the Concordia capital. It was incriminating to possess such items, such ties. Concordia prohibited such activity. Yet, there were no _legal_ repercussions for someone accusing others of Noir Magic. For the capital to place those accused ‘under review’ would be a complete mess.

“And what, exactly, will be done to prevent ill intentions?” Micah inquired sharply.

Calder rose an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t like Kai,” Micah said abruptly, looking at the blond-haired man at his side. “I hear about these new laws being put into place with severe consequences. Seeing it as an opportunity to get rid of him, I plant books in his possession and proclaim him a Noir User.” Murmuring spread across the councilmembers as Micah faced his father. “Tell me what safeguards will be used to prevent situations like these,” he demanded his father. “Tell me what you will do to prevent unfair judgement.”

Cordelia Abital caught his eyes. She was an image of smugness as she nodded her approval.

Next to her, the Unda men did not appear so impressed.

“He is a ruler after all,” an elder Igni man proclaimed.

Next to him, the Igni woman smiled thinly, assessing Micah with a certain reminiscence. “He is much like his grandfather.”

“What would you suggest then?” an Unda man inquired challengingly.

Micah looked at Calder. His father merely nodded once, appearing unruffled at Micah’s defiance. On the contrary, there was a new light in his eyes. Something bordering pleased and eager.

“I wouldn’t suggest any new edicts.” Micah looked at the man who’d demanded an answer. “Suspicion and disproval of Magi is already high. I would certainly acknowledge their participation of the attack today. People adapt well to proclaimed threats. They will practice due diligence in order to protect their homes and their family. If they catch any wind of Magi activity, they will report it.” He then looked at Calder. “It eliminates the messy applications of regulations.”

The council remained silent as their attention turned to the king, awaiting his response.

Micah would be disappointed if Calder were the individual who came up with the idea of harsher punishments for Noir participation. He hoped one of the Unda councilmembers brainstormed the silly solution.

“We will talk amongst ourselves with the new proposition,” Calder responded diplomatically. He then smirked, a gesture only Micah could see, before proceeding to walk up the dais. “In the meantime, rebuilding the capital is our main priority.”

Micah rocked to the heels of his boots, hoping to make a quick exit.

“If that is all, Your Majesty?” he inquired, veiling his anticipation for the end.

Calder laughed, sitting down. “No, that is not all.”

Stilling, Micah felt the sense of unease nip at the back of his neck.

Calder leaned forward on his throne, cupping his hands together and observing Micah closely.

“I am pleased you recognize the Noir Users are targeting you and are a significant threat. I shouldn’t have to explain, then, my reasons for prohibiting you from returning to the academy.” Micah stared stupidly, unable to form a coherent thought. “You are at the top of your class,” Calder continued, easily reading Micah’s open expression. “Councilman Sachiel has trained you well with the sword. You cannot learn anything further at the academy that you cannot learn here at the palace with private tutors.”

“I—”

Calder raised a hand, cutting Micah off. “This is not up for negotiation, Ezra. I agreed to give you time, but I require you _here_ , under the protection of your uncle and myself.”

Micah took a deep, steadying breath. He didn’t dare look at the figure sitting smugly to Calder’s right. The same figure who boasted just days ago that Micah would soon be locked in Calder’s cage with him.

“I’m commanding you as your king, not as your father.”

Micah could very well argue. Explain the reasons why Calder’s request was unfounded. Only, he was intentionally aware of all the eyes on him, watching his reaction, far too prepared to judge him quickly. Therefore, he reigned in his immature impulses, at least for now, and inclined his head. His entire body was as stiff as a board.

“I would like to at least return to the academy and speak with my team. If that is permitted, Your Majesty?” He did not hide his derision.

Calder chuckled, as if enjoying this immensely. “Of course I will permit it, my son,” he said, matching Micah’s tone perfectly.

“I will collect you from the academy this evening,” Josiah informed.

Micah bowed low at the waist before turning his heel and retreating from the throne room as hastily as possible. He could feel Josiah’s displeasure lick at the back of his heels like merciless flames of irritability.

The man did not like to be ignored.

Micah never anticipated time would run out this quickly. He had only a few hours to act and he needed to be as prepared as possible. Unfortunately, it came at a poor time. Kai would not understand his need to seek a stranger in the last few hours he had left with his team. However, it was vital Micah learn as much as he could before facing Josiah tonight.

 

* * * *

Oddly enough, Kai didn’t even blink when Micah insisted they see the Noir User expert. In fact, Kai hadn’t shown much emotion since they departed from the throne room.

The boy had been silent, stewing.

Micah imagined he’d eventually figure out the cause of the other man’s anger. Either Kai was upset that Micah hadn’t explained the details of the battle, or he was upset about the revelation that Micah would no longer attend the academy. Whatever it was, Micah knew to give the other man distance. Kai typically preferred to sort things out himself before addressing it.

“Kai Edlen indicated you wanted to talk about daemons.”

Clearing the top step of the long staircase, Micah entered the stale, malodourous attic and approached the man seated behind a desk. Down below, a fancy tailor shop sprawled across the main level. Kai waited down there, lingering near the display window and in sight of the two guards who’d accompanied them to the academy.

Kai claimed he needed to make a stop at the tailors before returning to the academy.

Catching on to the boy’s intentions, Micah also requested privacy. Last time he had looked, the guards stood outside, peering into the tailor shop with looks of intense boredom and indifference. Meanwhile, the shopkeeper ushered Micah up a set of steep stairs, reassuring him the _scholar_ of _history_ dwelled in the attic.

And that he did.

Micah did not know where the desk ended and the man began. The Noir User guru was tremendously heavy-set, as wide as the desk and as deep as the nook positioned behind him. There was only one window in the attic. Flimsy drapes hung in front of the strong sunlight, dimming his surroundings in an unattractive shade of green.

Dust suspended in the air, appearing like small jewels as they caught the vague rays of sunlight through the drapes. Books crammed in every corner of the attic, and bookshelves, buckled and broken with unbearable weight, struggled to remain standing against the walls.

“Daemons,” Micah repeated, turning his attention back on the man. “Kai indicated I wanted to talk about daemons?”

Through his haze of single-minded focus, a flame of amusement licked at him. Kai indicated he knew the reason for Micah’s little adventure between terms. Clearly, he’d seen Micah’s books and the topic that had interested him.

Micah found himself endeared over Kai’s resourcefulness.

Even if that resourcefulness was snooping.

“Yes,” the man repeated slowly, as if Micah were thick. “… _Daemons_.”

Washed-out blue, beady eyes stared at him from behind the desk. Besides a quick once-over, the man did not appear too impressed by Micah. Instead, he turned back to the biscuit on his plate and proceeded to lick his fingers clean.

The scent of stale body odor and food stunk the attic. Micah grimaced at the heavy air, underwhelmed. Did he trust this man to hold his answers? Micah suddenly came down from his anticipation and dwelled in skepticism. Perhaps he wouldn’t find his answers today. Perhaps he would have to face Josiah wholly and purely ignorant. Unprepared. Unarmed.

“Initially, I did have questions about daemons. I still do, actually, but it’s not so much pressing anymore,” Micah continued despite his reservations. He looked down at his boots and licked his lips uncertainly. “I want to know about…” he took a deep breath and gathered his wits. “Gods,” he forced himself to say.

Gods.

_Gods!_

There, he’d said it aloud. Despite his entire life living in disbelief over the prospect of gods, he finally acknowledged their existence. Saying it aloud did nothing to soothe his agitation. If anything, it made it worse. They weren’t really real, were they?

He was wrong. He had to be.

The man behind the desk refocused on Micah. “What about gods?”

“The likelihood of a god walking amongst us.”

Watery eyes glazed over for a moment before squinting. “Now we’re talking, boy!” Standing, the man pried the chair from his hips and struggled to shuffle around his desk. “I don’t get many inquiries about gods. Interest? Yes. But not inquires.”

Kai mentioned the guru’s name was _Beck._ The man hadn’t introduced himself, and Micah hadn’t felt the need to introduce himself either. Beck suited the man just fine, Micah deduced as he watched the scholar shuffle his way over to a nearby bookcase. Somehow, he’d managed to get there without tripping over the sheer mass of books in his way.

“Gods walking amongst us are rarely topics of discussion, simply because their induction into our world is far less likely than a daemon. Far less feared. Daemons are somewhat of a horror story, told to scare enemies and used as threats. Little do most know that a god cloaking himself in mortal skin should be feared far more than any daemon possession,” Beck said as he surveyed the bookcase. “Fortunately, we _mortals_ are rarely engaging enough to hold a god’s attention for too long.”

Micah’s lashes lowered with deliberation. “You say that as if we are insignificant.”

He’d known that.

Identified it himself this morning, even.

But…

“Oh, we are. To gods at least.” Beck paused. “To daemons, it is from my understanding that we are a source of food and energy.”

“Daemons consume human souls,” Micah surmised. “Do gods consume our souls?”

“They have the ability, but they don’t _crave_ our souls for nourishment.” The man bent down as low as he could manage, his trousers straining painfully against his backside. “Gods think of mortals as mere livestock. Animals. Pests. We are insignificant to them.” Beck focused on a very large tome on the bottom shelf. “It’s understandable, really. We are mortal and our lifespans are short. Compared to gods —even the minor gods—we are powerless and easily disposable.”

Micah narrowed his eyes. “Minor gods?”

Beck glanced at Micah from over his shoulder. His beady eyes squinted. “Minor gods. The ones that are not part of the _Big Four._ Records indicate anything and everything has a god attached to it, whether it be an emotion, a catastrophe, whatever the case may be. It is not proven, however, I can only speculate given the information I have.” 

The god of war, Micah considered. The goddess of envy? Lust? Misfortune?  He supposed there were several other gods and goddesses he hadn’t considered. He thought briefly of the attack this morning. There were at least a dozen.

“I’m assuming the _Big Four_ are Varuna, Agni, Vayu, and Prithvi.”

“Your assumptions prove correct. Why are they called the Big Four, you may ask? Because they are the eldest. The most powerful. And they are the only gods who receive worship and proper recognition.”

Beck turned back around and slowly tugged the book from the bottom shelf. In doing so, several other books tumbled to the floor in its absence. The scholar paid the discarded books no heed as he shuffled back over to his desk. Settling in his chair as if it were a throne, he pressed a hand against the cover of the book, out of breath.

“Gods are created with all sorts of power levels. However, if they receive further worship and sacrifices by us _unassuming_ mortals, they tend to grow more powerful.”

Micah contemplated the information, his mind racing. “There are kingdoms centralized around the Big Four.”

“Rightfully so!” Beck accentuated with a snort. “They’ve blessed mortals with fractions of their powers. Elementals,” he emphasized. “It is only fair we pray to them and offer sacrifices in their name. Each prayer, however, only makes them that much stronger.” He raised his arms and waved them around. “Like daemons who rely on human souls to give them strength, gods feed off the pleas and the cries of dedicated followers.” Beck smiled, showing crooked and stained teeth. “They are rather greedy creatures, in all actuality.”

“And what if a kingdom is wiped out from existence?” At Micah’s inquiry, the man’s eyebrows furrowed with misperception. “Like the Igni Empire,” Micah stressed. “Just say those who worship Agni are no longer in existence. Does that mean the fire god becomes the weakest of the four?”

His pulse pounded at each mention of Agni.

Fortunately, it wasn’t beating loud enough for the other man to overhear.

“It is difficult to say. I don’t believe any god would allow it to get to that point. Gods are rather vain, after all. Though they may turn their cheek to our desperate pleas, they would take quick action if they believed their people faced extinction. The Igni Empire may have lost the war, but they are still thriving, still worshiping Agni.”

Micah rocked to the heels of his boots and found the pieces slowly coming together. “By taking quick action, you mean coming to our world.”

“Walking amongst us? Yes.” He tapped the book twice. “They would reconstruct a satisfactory following. Most the time, they do not shy away from admitting their presence—their identity— to mortals. Inside this book are a few recorded sightings in our world. Now, keep in mind most of these may not be accurate, but rather fables of uneducated and misguided fools.”

Micah’s attention dropped to the thick book, marveling at the sheer size. Disbelief made him speechless for just a moment.

“Why don’t more people know about this?”

“Most have a general sense that gods are, in fact, _real_ ,” Beck replied, squinting at Micah oddly. “It’s why our faith is so strong. Unless, of course, you are one of the skeptics.”

Micah blinked at the man, deadpanned. When he was incredibly young, he vaguely remembered Ember explaining the different rituals performed in Agni’s name. He did not know the scriptures nor the fables very well. It never seemed a pressing thing to learn. They were _fables,_ after all _._ Mere stories.

Faith suspended on a fragile thread of chance.

Micah clasped his hands behind his back and asked the question that burned the back of his tongue.

“How often does Agni come to our world?”

A pause.

“Agni!” The man laughed excessively. He opened the book and shuffled all the way towards the back, leaving only a few pages remaining. “Agni doesn’t appear to us often. Those who worship Agni know of his fierce temper and his unyielding demand for obedience. His people do not stray often, though his presence would be disconcerting, to say the least.”

“Oh?” Micah ignored the goose bumps across his arms. “Why disconcerting?”

“Agni typically brings destruction when he walks amongst us. The last known entry was over two hundred years ago. He brought a mass plague to his people simply because he believed they were growing too power hungry and disobedient.”

Micah’s eyebrow twitched.

It sounded like someone he knew, yes.

Beck nodded, as if reading Micah’s expression. “I hesitate to use the term _immature_ when describing gods _,_ especially considering how old they are, but judging from the stories, they are incredibly juvenile. Very childish, as if stunted emotionally.” Pausing, he bowed his head. “Not to speak ill of you, _Varuna_.”

Micah observed the scholar as he waved a hand in the air, lost in his own private prayer as he asked for forgiveness. 

Something odd twisted inside Micah as it all came crashing down. Humans really were powerless. In the eyes of gods, they were _nothing._ Yet, despite the gods thinking so little of mortals, mortals continued to worship, to fall to their knees before creatures who wouldn’t think twice sparing their lives.

It was out of fear, Micah realized.

If the book on Beck’s desk was a topic amongst worshipers, even if only vague recollections, they would _know_ about the catastrophes gods brought upon them. The suffering, the deaths, the destruction. Yet they continued to feed the gods power of prayer, of rituals. If only for a small chance the god they passionately worshipped rewarded their loyalty.

And the gods continued to take and take.

Micah viewed the whole debacle with a sense of extreme bitterness. Bitterness against the gods, but also to the mortals whose power lust blinded them and whose fear submitted them. They were malleable and so easily shepherded. Despite his view, he felt a strange affliction to protect the foolish people.

“And what of Varuna?” Micah inquired, curious. “Does he make appearances?”

His first concern was with Agni.

His second…

“Far more frequent than our fire god.” Beck raised his head and busied himself by sectioning off a large number of pages. “He creates destruction just as well, but he makes sure his good deeds are also known. While Agni’s records indicate annihilation, he also does good deeds. He just doesn’t publicize it like Varuna.”

“What makes them walk amongst us? Can’t they do most things from their own realm? I would imagine they would feel bound with us.”

He remembered the rain, the wind.

He was under the impression gods could wreak havoc, even in their own realm. 

“I am uncertain why they choose to become a part of our realm,” Beck admitted. “But yes, their powers are extensively limited when they are in mortal skin. However, their influence is also dulled when they try to control things from their realm. It lacks _finesse._ ”

Micah released his hands from his back, his fingers brushing against the pendant in his pocket. “You’ve mentioned mortal skin before. Is that how they walk amongst us? Possession?”

“Yes, much like daemons. Only, gods require permission from their host.”

Stilling, Micah mulled over the revelation.

Permission?

“Unless, of course, they don’t mind a weakened vessel. They could possess without permission, but their presence is too overpowering. Often times, unwilling hosts crumble from constantly fighting off the invasion.”

“Crumble.”

Beck smiled gleefully. “Literally.”

Flipping to another page, Beck rotated the book around. As Micah approached, his eyes instantly fell upon a charcoal image of man bleeding from all his orifices. Eyes protruded unnaturally and fingers detached from groping, desperate hands.  

“I thought you said they crumbled.” Micah pointed to another image further down on the page. “It looks more like an explosion.”

“ _That_ would be if a mortal looked at a god in his true form.” Beck gave another sharp-toothed smile. “Gods can take on many forms, but if they choose to reveal their true selves, mortals cannot process the power before them. Your head explodes, or, if you are an Elemental, your eyes simply implode. There have actually been some survivors.”

Micah’s finger paused over the illustration of a headless man, the gore around him indication his head had exploded. In the corner of the page was an intricately sketch of a man with gaping holes for eyes. Micah thought back to the migraines he’d experienced in Josiah’s presence. They’d been excruciating.

“Gods have control over the amount of power they reveal to mortals, do they not?” Micah asked. “If they possessed a human, their vessel could still portray some of the god’s real power, correct?”

“I imagine they can do many things and we just don’t know the extent of it.” Beck shrugged. “Undoubtedly they can control the level of power they channel towards a mortal, I suppose.”

So why had Josiah subjected Micah to slivers of his aura?

If a god possessed Josiah—

No.

If _Agni_ possessed Josiah…

Micah removed his hand from the pages, feeling his vision swim. Feeling ill. The signs had been there. Josiah—Agni—had laid them all in front of Micah like _breadcrumbs._ Taunting, luring. Only, Micah came to the wrong conclusion and labeled him a daemon. He could only imagine how amused Josiah had been then, listening to Micah accuse him like a hot-tempered child with incorrect assumptions.

Josiah knew Micah was skeptical over gods. He knew it would take Micah a long while to come to the true conclusion. After all, Micah would readily believe the existence of daemons over the divine entities of above.

“Rituals can protect a human from a god’s unveiled presence, can’t they?”

“Gods and daemons are interchangeable at times,” Beck whispered as if he were insulting Varuna directly by comparing him to a daemon. “When there is a ritual for one, there is most likely a ritual for the other. Only, different materials and different intentions.”

“Gold?” The pendant weighed a ton against his thigh.

“Gold for gods, yes. The silver metals for daemons.”

Protection against Agni hand delivered by Agni.

Settled nicely on top his pillow.

It was too surreal. Micah could not grasp it and analyze it properly enough to make it real. Aside from his uncertainty, fear took prevalence. For what purpose would a god as powerful as _Agni_ plant himself next to Micah and toy with him? For this long? No. Perhaps he was wrong again. There was only one way to find out, wasn’t there?

Micah looked up at Beck and smiled humorlessly.

“Tell me about exorcism…” he trailed off with a long breath. “How do you exorcise a god from a willing host?”

 


	9. Chapter Nine

**9\. Chapter Nine**

Micah stood solitarily amongst the remnants of the deteriorated building.

At his side, a bottle of wine hung from his trembling fingers. He’d been standing there for over an hour. Cold, uncertain, and entirely out of his depth. Keeping the fear at bay proved challenging, especially considering the circumstances. In an attempt to stop obsessing over the imminent confrontation, he fervently derailed his thoughts to anything _but._

Unfortunately, that proved impossible.

An elusive memory from several months ago conjured itself from the deepest recess of his subconscious, reappearing with startling clarity and concrete realism. 

He remembered his knees aching back then. Subserviently, he had kneeled before Agni’s elaborate statue, reluctantly, but willingly choosing the fire god over Varuna. He remembered his neck bowing that day. He remembered bending and folding his body to the fierce will of the fire god. Back then, as he’d kneeled to Agni’s statue, a fleeting memory from his youth had returned.

Ember crooned gently to his younger self and patted the spot beside her kneeling form. He’d followed her suggestion hurriedly and kneeled next to her. Several lit candles illuminated their small apartment. He’d remembered the golden flames reflecting the unshed tears in her eyes as she taught him prayers. She’d reach over and adjust his small hands to the proper form. She said Agni would bless and watch over them.

Such a fierce god.

Such a protective god, she said.  

Micah, in all his innocence, remembered repeating the words after his mother with careful concentration, determined not to make mistakes. The prospect had fascinated him as a child. A powerful man able to give them all that they desired if they just worshipped him. He had willingly followed his mother and prayed to the invisible man several times that night, hopeful to reap the future benefits.  

He remembered going to bed very hungry that night, but full of wild anticipation and enthusiastic expectations. He then recollected the feelings of despair coming from his mother when the hunger continued for several nights thereafter, and when the violence and the stark living conditions agonizingly persisted. The prayers remained unanswered.

Thus, mother and son stopped praying together. The mentions of Agni silenced. Mockery and derision of the gods began.

Back at the academy, as Micah had bowed to the statue of Agni, he’d remembered all those unanswered prayers. Nonetheless, despite his doubt and his dislike, he resignedly played his part in declaring a god. His skepticism blackened his mood as he had raised his head and accepted the ashes across his forehead.

 _Agni’s blessing_ , the vicar proclaimed.  

It confused him back then, when the ashes itched unpleasantly across his skin. He remembered comparing the intensity of their heat to the intensity in Josiah’s eyes as he had watched Micah stand from the altar and walk down the aisle.

The man’s scrutiny had perplexed him, unnerved and captivated him.

Now it all connected. Everything connected. From the unexplained fire that consumed his enemies in battle, to the fire in this very storage facility that killed all the Magi. He remembered the heat of those flames, knowing above all else, that he was not immune to them.

Yet, despite his assumptions, there was still a sliver of doubt, or perhaps hope, that he was wrong.

As he stood amongst the blackened and burned debris, Micah listened to the ghostly whispers of the past, their tragedy and their pain just as vivid in death as it was in their last moments of life. The storage facility was all but a shell after the fire. Coolly, he assessed his surroundings, seeing nothing but burned junk. He knew there were no ghosts, no entities, but the impressions left behind were vivid and terrible.

With it being so close to the academy, there were talks of making it a new training facility. Micah didn’t know what he felt about that. Standing in the same place Keegan took his last breath made him feel as if the building should remain as it was.

Ghosts and all.

The atmosphere in the facility suddenly shifted and Micah knew _he’d_ come. No matter where Micah hid, the man would always find him.

It was time.

Inhaling, he gathered his fear and his trepidation. Exhaling, his eyes focused keenly and he forced his hammering pulse to steady.

“I’d always wondered what thwarted the Noir Users that night,” Micah started conversationally, gripping the wine bottle so the man behind him would not see. “At first, I admired Keegan for breaking the rune. It was his last act of defiance to show others he was not so disposable. Yet, the ritual still didn’t work after they had closed it.”

Gathering his strength, he peered over his shoulder at the man behind him.

Josiah stood a distance behind him, his face eerily impassive but observant. “What are you doing, child?” the man inquired softly.

Micah’s fingers trembled over the neck of the wine bottle. There was something terrifying about Josiah now that Micah knew the truth. Cloaked in darkness, the man was a motionless spectator, eyes only for Micah. A certain stillness settled over the man, a stillness laced with irrefutable tension.

“You’re picking me up like a child to escort me to the palace, remember?”

Josiah watched him dispassionately.

Silently.

Micah sucked in a breath, penetrating the veil of silence with jarring precision. “It took me a long time to realize the Magi’s ritual wouldn’t have worked if they had the wrong materials,” he continued, his voice raspy. “But the woman was not an amateur. They would have known better than to use the incorrect materials. Which led me to believe they were trying to trap and encage the wrong _creature._ ”

Orange eyes narrowed.

“Ironically enough, they got both counts wrong.” Micah smiled without humor. “The materials for the ritual and the creature.” He lifted the wine bottle, bringing it in sight of the man. Only a shadow of confusion revealed across Josiah’s face before he masterfully recovered. “And another irony, if you will, is that I happen to have both counts _right_ this time.”

_“Wine is offered to the gods by every culture,” Beck said. “It is a very powerful conduct in rituals and offerings, a symbol of utmost respect and an absolute necessity. To make the god unwelcome, you must disrespect the illusion of worship.”_

His fingers released the wine bottle, allowing it to drop to the ground. Glass shattered into several pieces and the dark liquid seeped over the scorched floor. Micah had anticipated total failure, but as soon as the wine encountered his rune, fire ignited powerfully.

It was a haphazardly drawn circle, as Micah hadn’t properly seen his charcoal mark upon the charred flooring. All that mattered, however, was that it was complete and large enough to encompass Josiah. The small runes he drew on the outside of the circle ignited last, but their form so clear, so precise, Micah had to admire them as they burned luminously.

Almost sinisterly. 

Micah turned his observation from the runes to the man inside the fire perimeter. He saw amusement there as the Igni king assessed the fire rune, the high irony of his own Element encaging him clearly humoring him.

Eventually, Josiah turned to face Micah, waiting almost patiently. 

“From what I’ve gleaned that night…” Micah started firmly, “You cannot possibly ensnare a god with a daemon ritual… _Agni_.”

Josiah closed his eyes.

For a split second, Micah anticipated the cruel insult as Josiah yet again denied his allegations. Instead, a peculiar, sick thrill tightened the corner of the man’s mouth. When his eyes reopened, Micah felt terror sink profoundly into his limbs, making them feel heavy and impossible to move. Deep orange, almost red eyes narrowed pleasantly, holding him captive.

“How much I enjoy hearing you say my name, _Ezra_. While the occurrences are few and far between, it is so delectable when spoken by you.”

A delighted purr interwove each word and Micah fell to his knees, overwhelmed. Hastily, he grabbed a shard of the wine bottle, ignoring the watchful, amused eyes and the way his fingers shook madly.

“Curious,” Josiah remarked. “I have never seen this ritual before.” The man simply stood there, unconcerned, most likely confident any ritual would fail on a god of his caliber.

_“Expelling a god from a willing host is incredibly tricky. Expelling one of the Big Four is impossible unless you have the proper materials.” Beck paused. “We don’t have access to any of those materials at the capital, I assure you.” Beck overlooked Micah’s displeasure. “Unless, by chance, you have worshipped said god and received his or her blessing.”_

_Micah smiled unfriendly. “Reluctantly, but yes.”_

_Beck did not appear reassured. “That tells me the god you are planning to expel is either Varuna or Agni. If it is the latter, I must caution you to the extreme likelihood of his retribution. Varuna would be displeased, Agni would be_ furious. _”_

_“Tell me how to expel a god, Beck.”_

_The scholar shifted unhappily in his chair before excitement took precedence. “You need to renounce him as your chosen god. Make it an unfriendly and unaccepting environment for him.” A sinister chuckle sounded from his moist lips. “He is going to kill you when he finds a way back to his vessel. It won’t keep him away forever.”_

Micah didn’t need forever.

He just needed proof. He needed answers.

Micah pricked his finger barely enough to break the skin. He didn’t want to draw attention to the entity who was after his blood. After all, he only needed three drops tonight.

Squeezing enough blood to bubble at the tip of his finger, he gazed up at Josiah from his knees, catching the man’s eye. “I have readily accepted you as my one, true god and accepted your blessing in turn.” Josiah smiled thinly, appearing wildly ecstatic. “But you have failed me as my god,” Micah intoned emotionlessly. “You have intentionally put me through danger and have remained silent in answering my prayers and the prayers of my loved ones.”

He channeled as much animosity as he could into that drop of blood, recalling his mother, recalling his childhood. It was easy to harness his anger against Agni. The man had even admitted he’d put Micah through a challenging childhood just to prevent spoiling. Agni never intended to answer Ember’s pleas those many years ago. He’d probably heard them all and delighted in each one.

As Micah’s blood hit the fire, a strange sizzle sounded and the flames heightened. Josiah lost his smug expression and anger quickly took precedence. Whatever he was feeling, it was because the ritual was working.

Encouraged, Micah continued. “You have taken something I hold precious without any sort of compensation or explanation,” Micah said as he squeezed out another drop.

_For Keegan._

The flames ignited powerfully and Micah backed up hastily on his knees, hearing Josiah hiss.

“Foolish boy. _Stop this!_ ”  

Micah had no qualms as he reached for the flames one last time, feeling their heat lick at his flesh. “I no longer wish to bow to you.” He stood. “I no longer wish to worship you or revel your power. I renounce you as my one true god, Agni.”

As the last drop of blood fell into the flames, a bright light encompassed Josiah. The man doubled over and trembled, the light growing brighter and brighter, making it impossible for Micah to watch further. He lifted his arm to block the sight, his ears ringing wildly as an inhuman, high-pitched wail reverberated across the storage facility.

A prevailing wind knocked him off his feet and the power was _noxious._ As Micah landed on the ground, the last thing he was aware of was the shattering of all the remaining windows as the entity unwillingly fled from their world.

 

* * * *

 

Lightning veined across the sky with furious and relentless strokes. No rain fell from the clouds, but unhappy thunder rumbled, desperately trying to catch up with the sheer amount of lightning channeling through the sky. Micah blinked wearily up at the storage facility’s dilapidated ceiling, gradually becoming aware of his surroundings and his situation.

_Agni._

He sat up suddenly, spying Josiah positioned several feet away. The man sat against a far pillar, simply observing him. “I suppose you feel accomplished,” the man remarked casually.

Micah gradually rose from the ground, bracing his fingers against the floor until he knew he could stand without losing balance. All the while, he scrutinized the figure as if he were a stranger.

Technically, _he was a stranger_.

Josiah looked the same. However, that was where the similarities ended. Josiah did not talk with slow and seductive emphasis. Even when sitting, he did not carry that dominating, alluring aura. In fact, the red-golden hue Micah grew accustomed to seeing around Josiah was now a pale, shimmery glow. Like all the other mortals.

He was meeting his uncle for the first time in his life. “Accomplished?” Micah asked slowly. An elated snort escaped his lips. “No.” He shook his head. “I feel _superiorly_ delighted!” he screamed exaggeratedly.

All the tension he’d experienced the past few days bled from his system. In its place was an exhilarating sensation he hadn’t experienced for quite some time. It bubbled up inside him, spilling over and making him delirious.

He tipped his head back and laughed.

_Laughed._

“How can you be so confident he won’t kill you?” Josiah asked.

Micah just laughed harder. “Who said I am confident he won’t kill me?” he managed to ask, muffling his laughter into an unrestrained smile. “Do you have any idea how _good_ it feels to take him by surprise? To rip him forcibly from our world?”

Josiah appeared unimpressed. “I don’t have any idea, no, but I imagine Agni would be able to relate with your bizarre sense of fun and games. You two are always skirting around each other. Throwing curses and daggers one day, eagerly sucking tongues the next.”

Micah’s mirth died.

Josiah smiled, sensing Micah’s abrupt displeasure. “Did I hit a nerve, nephew?” He cocked his head, considering the stone-faced Micah. “You should be honored the fire god has taken a physical interest in you.”

“It’s highly doubtful a god of his status lusts after a mortal.”

“You’re very pretty,” the man replied innocently, giving Micah an once-over.

“You and I both know physical fascination isn’t the reason he’s shown an interest. _That_ kind of interest, at least,” he argued coldly. “You are constantly sharing a mind space, surely you have some idea what his intentions are by feigning attraction to me.”

“I wouldn’t call what we share a _mind space._ ”  

Josiah’s expressions were too open, his character abrasive to Micah’s senses. It did not feel right to look at this man without Agni possessing it. Pushing away his silly, obstructive feelings, Micah approached his uncle slowly. The soles of his boots crunched audibly against the charred, broken floor.

“If trying to glean into Agni’s mind was your intention, I’m afraid you went through a lot of effort for nothing,” Josiah said, watching Micah approach. “I’m merely an observer in my own body. I watch it move, eat, talk, and fight on its own. I have my own thoughts and instincts, but they never influence Agni.”  

Micah hesitated for a moment before crouching down next to Josiah.

“I can’t feel what Agni feels,” the man informed jadedly. “I cannot hear what he thinks. We are two separate entities living in the same body. It took several years to grow accustomed to such a possession. But by now, I’ve lived almost as long with Agni possessing me as I have lived without him. It’s natural.”

“Agni doesn’t communicate with you?” It sounded like a nightmare to Micah. He couldn’t even fathom a similar existence. “Living as a silent prisoner in your mind would drive anyone mad.”

“He gives me control from time to time.”

“Really?” Micah replied skeptically. “Have I interacted with you before?”

“Never. Agni is front and center for you.” Dark humor twisted the man’s expression. “I get control often when he leaves to watch over you.”

The hairs on Micah’s body immediately stood on end.

“If a god could be _obsessed_ …” Josiah whispered nearly inaudibly.

Amongst the private joke, Micah detected the jealousy, the bitterness. “You’re lying,” he called the man’s bluff. “I know what Agni’s presence feels like now. I’ve only experienced it a handful of times. Mostly in battle.” He squinted at the man. “Contrary to what you believe, my intentions of exorcising Agni was not to inquire about his intentions for grounding himself to this mortal realm.”

“No?” Josiah raised his eyebrows doubtfully.

“Not my primary purpose,” Micah corrected reluctantly. “I needed to know what creature he was after months of erroneous accusations. My second priority was to give you a second chance.”

“A second chance for what?” Something in Josiah’s tone indicated the man already knew what Micah was about to say. He didn’t appear very grateful, however, just a bit… cynical. 

_Jaded._

“To revoke your permission for possession, of course.”

For the first time since Micah woke from unconsciousness, Josiah looked away to veil his emotions. The man scoffed. His strained smile faltered brokenly as he stared up into the ceiling, watching the lightning vein across the clouds.

His eyes suddenly unfocused, alarming Micah.

Standing from his position, Micah whirled around, staring into the stormy sky and anticipating Agni’s sudden arrival. However, there was no one there. His eyes lingered across the lightning, wondering if Agni were up there, still trying to fight his way past the rune blocking his reentrance. As long as they remained in the storage facility, Micah had a strong, confident illusion they would be okay.

“I have nothing that interests me enough to return, especially now.”

Micah turned back, observing the upturned face of his uncle.

There were times he forgot how young Josiah was. With the absence of the ancient god, who dripped of haughtiness, Micah felt as if he were looking at a man several years younger. Indeed, he knew Josiah—the _real_ Josiah—had been very young when the war started. He’d fought at the frontlines at the age of fifteen, almost sixteen.

He’d been very young—probably around Micah’s age—when Agni possessed him.

Micah imagined it was highly probable his uncle’s mentality was stunted at that young age, unable to grow through his own interactions or personal trials. In his mind, he was the young man living amongst Noir Users after the war. Defeated, humbled. Personally destroyed over the failed war and his lost empire.

Micah crouched back down next to the man, choosing his words carefully. “That is not true. You have many things to return to, particularly a whole nation of people.”

Orange eyes, lacking their usual spark, turned towards him. “That’s why I accepted Agni’s possession. For my people. For _his_ people.”

Now they were getting somewhere.

Micah tried not to reveal his eagerness. “From what I’ve heard, you lost the war against Unda and decided to travel immediately after.” Micah paused. “That’s when you found the Noir Users.”

Josiah smiled, almost bashful. “I made the mistake of thinking I could somehow reverse the outcome of the war by learning magic. Before I left, I watched my father hand my sister over to the Unda royalty like a token to be passed around.” His tone was bitter, resentful. “After all the losses we experienced at their hands…” Josiah trailed off hoarsely, his eyes distant in a memory long ago. “We only needed water. In the end, over half our race died in an attempt to access a precious resource.”

“It was an unfair war.”

“Unfair in that they could heal quickly? Yes, they had a major advantage over my men.” Josiah rubbed the bridge of his nose, hardly flinching as thunder cracked through the sky and rumbled the foundation of the storage facility.

Still no rain fell.

“I can only imagine the events after the war proved almost as challenging, if not more so, than the actual war,” Micah intoned quietly. “You are from a proud heritage.”

“ _We_ ,” Josiah corrected with a hint of amusement. “It was unbearable watching our race scrape by like savages and being treated like second-rate citizens. I couldn’t watch my sister being brainwashed into her new position. I had to leave.”

“You cared for her.”

“I loved her,” Josiah corrected heatedly. “Your mother and I grew up together as children. We were very close. To see her being used as a _breeding_ bitch…”

“No offense taken,” Micah murmured.

“Even you admit your existence was motivated purely by political agendas.” Josiah frowned. “It must be difficult for you. What god do you worship? Which culture do you follow? What race do you identify with?”

“I am programmed to worship both gods, follow both cultures, and identify with each race,” Micah replied automatically. “It is what I was born to do. What I must do.” 

Josiah contemplated him. “Both races are immensely strong and proud of their rich cultures. Ember never raised you as a full Igni, did she? And Calder doesn’t seem inclined to turn you into a pureblood Unda.”

“What are you insinuating?”

“Even your own parents find your existence puzzling. They are uncertain how to treat you. They view you as a political game piece more than an actual child of both races. You just exist. Halfway between both worlds, programmed with the notion you need to relate to both races whom you feel no particular pride or origins towards.”

Micah pondered, not realizing why he felt slighted at the obvious truth. “It’s for the best I do not relate to one race over the other.”

“Not if Agni has anything to say about it.”

“Then Calder would take notice and readily rise to offset Agni’s influence,” Micah countered. “Privately, I am my own self. Publically, I must and will continue to serve and speak for both races. Unless, of course, you and Agni have plans to thwart me in the future.”

Josiah had the audacity to appear innocent. “Agni would never _dare_ hurt you.”

And that was the truth, wasn’t it? For some strange, unexplainable reason, Agni valued Micah’s life. He’d _invested_ in Micah’s life. “Physically harm me? No. Challenge me? Always.” Micah deliberated the man. “You fled for the Noir Users in hopes of learning something that could give you an advantage. Instead, you realized, after years in their company, they were using you.”

Josiah offered another broken grin before it immediately fell. “Agni educated you well.” His eyes unfocused again as he recalled his time with the Noir Users. “A part of me wanted to join forces with them and overwhelm the capital. They were tired of constantly traveling and living in fear for practicing magic. Myself, on the other hand, just wanted to destroy Calder and the Unda citizens.”

“Clearly, you decided against supporting their ideals.”

“The Igni people wouldn’t have been immune from the attacks. We already lost a good number of our people. I couldn’t subject them to another war.” Josiah refocused on Micah. “After I made my reluctance known, the Magi started treating me differently. They were all but keeping me against my will, for I remember time stretching oddly, vaguely. From time to time, I would briefly resurface and gather my wits.”

“That’s when you summoned Agni those many years ago to help you.”

“No,” Josiah debunked, his tone incredibly honest.

Micah stirred, interested at the notion. “Not summoned, then. Prayed.”

“No,” the man said again, his tone dead. “By that time, I’d turned my back on Agni. On religion.”  

The god approached Josiah?

“Agni approached _you._ How? Why?”

Josiah grinned. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I didn’t call him to our world or summon him, if that’s what you’re suggesting. He came to me and showed me my faults, my weaknesses.”

“He made you feel inept,” Micah countered quickly, automatically, his energy, his intellect, all focused on this particular conversation. “Made you feel personally responsible for the Igni Empire losing the war. Considering you _claimed_ the Magi manipulated you, I’m sure he made you feel further at fault by allowing yourself to be corrupted by such animals.”

“That’s—”

“Exactly how it went, but with far more subtly and a ridiculous amount of charm.” Micah shook his head. “Agni made you feel insignificant enough to accept his request to possess you. In your mind, only the fire god could extract revenge for your people.”

Josiah stiffened and crossed his legs at his ankles. “You silly boy. He did extract revenge. He burned all the men and women to the ground for using me. The Igni Empire _needed_ him. I would never conceive the notion of denying him if it meant saving our people.”

Micah stood up, frustrated. “My mother said how proficient you were with the sword. All I heard from other Igni warriors were stories of your brutality and resolution in battle, in the war. You were smart, you were _royal_.”

“What is your point?”

“You, the real you, could have made a difference. You still can,” Micah whispered heatedly, trying to ignite something within Josiah. “Why don’t you take back your mantle? Take back your body. If you feel as if you’ve failed your people, then stand up and take your retribution.”

Micah knew exactly what Agni wanted with this world. Beck indicated gods returned if they felt their worshippers were in jeopardy. The Igni people lost several casualties in the war and the Unda race continued to suppress them. If any of the gods felt threatened over the extinction of their people, it was Agni.

He’d want to return to the mortal realm to reestablish his followers. Micah knew. He knew Agni took possession of Josiah because of the royal blood. Micah also knew Agni established a connection with child-Ezra because of his royal blood and heir status to the kingdoms. Perhaps Agni believed seducing Micah would cause for easier manipulation.  

As if he were _that_ malleable.

Rage turned his blood cold.

“I assure you,” Micah started when Josiah remained silent. His words were soft, seductive, and so very alluring. Josiah wouldn’t know how much Micah desperately needed to counter Agni. “If you allow Agni to repossess you, I _will_ hinder his plans for creating an uprising. Because that’s exactly what he promised you, isn’t it? An uprising. Destruction of the Unda people.”

Josiah revealed nothing, which was rather impressive considering his earlier transparency during their conversation. “Go ahead, challenge him,” Josiah spat. “It _excites_ him.” The wink he gave Micah was debauched on several levels.

“And that doesn’t bother you at all?” he hissed.

“What? The incestuous undertones? Why should it? I’m not touching you, _he_ is. Besides, my mother and father were cousins. It is quite common amongst royalty. Keeping the blood pure and thick is imperative with the crown.”

Micah thought he’d gotten somewhere with Josiah. Only, Josiah suddenly appeared defiant, defending Agni and defending the possession. As much as Micah wanted to insult the man, claim how weak and pathetic he was by allowing someone else to take control, he knew that would be counterintuitive. Agni already did significant damage on Josiah’s psyche before his possession.

He wanted a compliant vessel, after all. What better vessel than a washed up prince who failed at defending his people? A very young prince who was close to the crowned heir set to rule the new kingdom?

Again, there was something satisfactory about things falling into place. Explanations finally addressed unanswered questions. Micah had a feeling that Agni planned on complete and utter destruction for the Unda people. Unfortunately for him, Micah did not intend to let that happen. He’d do everything in his power to prevent that.

 _Varuna_ wouldn’t allow it either.

“I do appreciate your attempts.” Josiah suddenly braced his arms at his sides and pushed himself to his feet. As he rose to his full height, the older man crowded him, unbashful sharing the same space. “Despite your breeding of two corrupt bloodlines, I think you turned out rather kindhearted.” Josiah leaned forward, their noses nearly brushing as they inhaled the same air. “One word of advice, nephew, don’t fool yourself into thinking you can be equals with Agni. The god will dispose of you quickly if he tires of you.”

“I am disposable?” Micah inquired breathlessly, smirking.

“Yes.”

“And should it surprise me that a god of Agni’s caliber finds me, a mere mortal, disposable?” he asked coyly.

Josiah’s eyes shuttered and his attention fell to Micah’s lips. “You’re a tease.”

Micah turned his shoulder on the man, disappointed with himself.

He’d been so close.

Josiah had closed off as soon as Micah mentioned stopping Agni from destroying the Unda people. While Micah’s promise was true, he knew he misplaced the timing of his threat. He shouldn’t have used it so soon in their conversation. _He’d been so close!_

“There is one thing I want to say, as I know Agni will never let the words fall from this mouth when he’s in control.” Josiah’s tone dropped its tautness and was once again open.

Micah paused, glancing at the man from over his shoulder.  

“I regret what I said to my sister on her wedding day,” Josiah continued sincerely. “The last thing I said to her was that she was no sister of mine, but rather a result of a whore and a king’s promiscuous ways. When I returned to the capital under Agni’s possession, I noticed Ember was no longer the same person.”

“I imagine life takes a toll on someone who is queen of a healing kingdom,” Micah surmised, turning to face Josiah. “It’s cut throat here. She had to adapt to survive.”

 _Unlike you,_ he wanted to say.

Josiah simply shook his head. “It was different. Ember knew about the ruthlessness of royalty since a child. Agni, of course, didn’t care to approach her about her frame of mind, but I could see the darkness. The sheer instability.”

Calder and Josiah—Agni—claimed Ember’s frame of mind had to do with carrying Ezra. A sort of condition many women experienced after pregnancy. Josiah didn’t seem very inclined to preach the same thing.

“Is that why she tried to burn me alive in my nursery?”

“Did you believe Agni when he told you that?” Oddly enough, Josiah’s question was not scornful. If anything, it was openly curious as he gauged Micah’s expression.

As a result of Josiah’s unruffled and nonaggressive demeanor, Micah’s immediate reply fell useless at the tip of his tongue. He took a deep, calming breath. “I didn’t want to believe it,” he said honestly. “But a part of me knew she was capable of it. It is how she discovered I was immune to the Elements.”

Would he finally get his answers of what happened that night?

“Agni discovered you that night, in the flames,” Josiah recounted dully, not realizing the complete raptness he’d earned from Micah. “He was on the way to your nursery when he noticed the smoke and the flames. I could tell he was extremely frantic when he ran up the stairs to your nursery. I’d never seen him move so quickly.” A ghost of a smile. “He reached in to retrieve you from the fire, noticing you were unscathed.”

“How did he know Ember created the fire?”

“She admitted to it.” Josiah’s expression turned pensive. “She was in the nursey, simply observing as Agni reached into the flames to get you. He hadn’t used his Element to move the flames. He just… walked right into them without a single care.”

“He was unscathed as well. Immune.”

“Fire cannot _hope_ to touch its master, no matter what skin he currently wears.”

“Ember noticed.”

Josiah focused on Micah, his expression creased with confusion. “She noticed. I believe she knew what he was, who he was, though I don’t understand how she made such a large leap to the conclusion. She said she knew about the immunity to the fire.”

“As in my immunity? Or Agni’s immunity?”

“She didn’t specify, but I am certain she was talking about both of you.”

Micah watched his uncle for a moment, noting the unclear expression on his face. It would appear even Josiah, an observer in his body at the time, couldn’t quite connect the dots. It simply raised Micah’s suspicions that Agni allowed Josiah to see only what he wanted him to see. Whatever happened that night was strictly between Ember and Agni. Micah just didn’t understand.

If his mother knew about Josiah being Agni, why hadn’t she told him about it? Why had she tried to get Micah to pray and worship the god when he was such a young child? The same man who’d destroyed half her face? Granted, the prayers stopped almost immediately, but why had she even bothered in the first place?

“Where was Calder during all this?”

“Away.” Josiah, at least, seemed certain of this. “Probably with one of his mistresses. He and Ember were going through a very difficult time. She found out about his affairs. She’d become threatened with Agni’s position in court and his interest in you. She did not want anyone near you. During the last days at the palace, she kept you to herself, locked in the nursery for days on end without anyone but the servants to tend to both your needs.”

“Yet, despite her instability, Agni allowed her to take me.”

“He watched over you frequently.”

“Frequently was never enough,” Micah argued bitterly, feeling the resentment grow.

“She wouldn’t have hurt you. He knew that. She knew you were immune when she created that fire. It appeared as if she had just wanted to see Agni’s reaction that night.”

“Then that makes it acceptable to throw a young child into a fire.” Micah scoffed. “But that’s just the thing, isn’t it? Agni was right. She never physically harmed me as a child. Her only weapon was the intentions of destroying my childhood by corrupting me with harsh realities.”

“Yet, you still love her.”

Micah stiffened. “Which makes her a master of the art.”

“You both hate and love her for your less than desirable upbringing. For destroying your innocence with a nurturing touch. That is only normal. Yet, her manipulations never stuck, did they?” Josiah inquired pensively. “She most likely had the ability to make them stick, yet oddly enough, it was almost as if she intended for them to bounce off you. You have no intentions of fulfilling her desires to destroy Calder and myself—or rather—Agni.”

Micah paused and considered Josiah’s analogy of his mother and her intentions. Could it really be true? Had he misread her manipulations?

She’d specifically urged him to extract revenge on Calder and Josiah. She’d told him about their poor characters. She blamed them for their deplorable living conditions. She’d taught him things to fit in with nobility so he could make his way through the political court and closer to the king. Yet… Josiah was correct. All it took was Agni collecting him from Idris’ tavern that day for Ember’s hold to loosen.

If Ember’s teachings really weren’t meant to ensure the destruction of Calder and Josiah, what had she intended?

It didn’t make sense.

He turned his attention back on to Josiah, lifting an eyebrow. “How do you know I’m just not playing along?”

“Please.” Josiah smiled then, resembling Agni. “You’re stuck in this web just as much as the rest of us. You were strong enough to establish your own identity despite her attempts, but perhaps not strong enough to resist Agni’s charismatic influence.”

“I’m not entirely sane,” Micah said.

“No. You’re not. Far better off than the majority of your blood relatives, however. Must be the inbreeding between cousins and siblings.” 

“What’s Ember’s excuse? She had no inbreeding.”

Josiah frowned. “I’m still trying to understand what happened to her in my absence. The woman who raised you was not the woman I remembered when we were children.” He seemed to hesitate. “I would like you to ask Agni.”

Micah bulked at the mere possibility of seeing Agni again, let alone asking him anything. “Highly unlikely.” 

“You’re just a curious as I am.”

Micah turned his cheek, feeling something twist ugly at each mention of his mother. He didn’t know what to label it. Grief. Hatred. Longing. Concern. “I’m assuming she’s alive and well. In which case, she’s bound to show her face eventually. At that time, I will find out what influenced her to fall so far. I’m not going to rely on Agni for any source of truth.”

“Never stopped you in the past from asking, did it?”

Micah seethed, realizing Josiah had watched and observed each of his failed attempts at gleaning any sort of truth from Agni. “He enjoys making me find out things by myself.” He contemplated Josiah, suddenly enlightened. “I’ll ask Agni about Ember if you tell me the identity of the woman he speaks to.”

“What woman?”

“I’m assuming she’s a goddess,” Micah said. “Very long, white hair. Pale skin. The ability to freeze time? Is that specific enough for you?”

Josiah hardly batted an eyelash. “She’s a goddess.”

Micah turned his heel and approached the exit.

“I don’t know _who_ she is.” Josiah followed persistently at his heels, quite a contrast to Agni, who would intentionally brush shoulders to take the lead. “Agni can block me at times. I can barely see and everything turns _hazy_.”

“I don’t believe you for a second,” Micah informed.

He did. He just didn’t like to hear the possibility of Agni twisting so many things to his favor and thinking so far ahead.

“Visit your source who helped you expel Agni,” Josiah suggested. “Maybe he knows the name of your goddess. But make sure to see him before Agni returns.”

Micah looked up at the dilapidated ceiling and into the high heavens. The lightning continued to extract its fury. “Why is that?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

“Agni is displeased.” A pause. “Can’t you feel it?” There was a kind of reverence in Josiah’s tone. “Agni is the most powerful god in existence. Fire is the root of all creation, the necessary ingredient to _life._ ”

Micah snorted, hardly believing. “You are biased.”

“And even after you received your silly proof, you are still a skeptic of the gods.”

“Skeptic? I just find them intolerable. They shouldn’t concern themselves with things in our realm, especially if they tip the balance unfairly.”

“Their powers are greatly suppressed when they walk amongst us. I’d say it’s fair.”

Micah did not respond. Sensing he had no chance of convincing Josiah to deny Agni’s repossession, he knew his second objective would not come into fruition. A part of him had wanted to see Agni scramble and search out a new vessel, someone not quite so influential with little to no standing. It was unsurprising that Agni properly brainwashed Josiah before taking possession.

He would not risk a faulty vessel.

“Where are you going?”

“To the academy,” Micah responded stiffly.

“You had enough time to say your farewells to your team,” Josiah commented. “You just chose your time poorly. You are to come to the palace with me. It is—”

In one fluid motion, Micah pivoted and took an advancing step toward Josiah. The man seemed startled at the action, taking a step back, asserting his submission. A sick, sinister part of Micah preened as he backed the man up against the wall. He loomed close, breathing the familiar heat, the familiar fire-like scent. While it wasn’t the man Micah wished to dominate, he still experienced a rush as he curled his hands in Josiah’s military uniform and shoved him against the wall.

Leaning in, he pressed his lips against the sharp jawline, feeling something stir in his loins.

“What are you going to do?” he inquired silkily. “Stop me?”

Micah moved in order to put their eyes on equal levels. He watched as Josiah’s pupils expanded wildly. The man’s breathing came out in short, quick bursts. His hands shook as they touched Micah’s waist before his fingers curled into desperate hooks.

“You’re a little tyrant,” the man accused quietly. “No wonder he’s possessive.”

“Agni isn’t here,” Micah murmured pleasantly. “Just you and I.”

“You’re a fool if you believe that.”

“And you’re properly collared,” Micah responded, dropping his hands from the military uniform. “I am going to say my farewells to my team. You can try to stop me, or you can accompany me. That is your decision.”

Josiah did not say anything as he followed Micah from the storage facility.

There was an odd sadness in Micah as he thought of his uncle. So young, so malleable to a god’s influence. The man hadn’t stood a chance against Agni’s possession. He was probably a shell of his former self, silenced after years living prisoner in his own body. It truly spoke volumes of Agni’s abilities if Josiah—even presented with a second opportunity—would willingly remain a host, an _observer,_ to his own life.

 


	10. Chapter Ten

**10\. Chapter Ten**

He had an obsessive mind.

When there was something he wanted to research, it took a great deal to divert his attention. For years, during his childhood, his mother attempted to rouse him from his books by implementing several different tactics, eager to get him motivated to go outside and play with other children. To mingle. To make friends. But to no avail. She could never get him to part with his texts.

Yet something, something silently disquiet, snared him from his books just then. 

Beck raised his chin from the tome and squinted into the hazy room. Several lanterns rebounded off the walls, illuminating the room but creating deep, fathomless shadows behind stacks of books and corners.

Silence.

The tailors left for the night, leaving early to help with the cleanup effort around the capital. Though it was difficult to remember, as he’d been engrossed with his reading, the female tailor shouted a farewell up the stairs several hours earlier. Beck hadn’t returned the farewell, irritated at the distraction at the time.

No footsteps sounded. No voices.

So what had distracted him from research?

As if caught in a concentrated breeze, the lanterns suddenly flickered. He stared at the lamp on his desk, transfixed by the long, hypnotic flame. He couldn’t help but to think of Agni as the fire swayed unnaturally.

_Oh Varuna!_

“You—” Beck trailed off and licked his bone-dry lips. “I warned him against it. I did!”

His skin flushed hotly when he realized his foolishness. Agni was not there. It was unlikely the kid even knew what he was witnessing. If anything, a daemon attached itself to the kid’s relative. Though the boy seemed relatively informed—more informed than most his clientele— the prospect of Agni lingering near the boy long enough to draw attention was improbable.

Agni did not _linger_ in the mortal realm.

When the room continued to stay silent and void, Beck shifted in his chair.

Clearing his throat, he adjusted the book and searched for the place he’d left off.

“If he did not have the proper pendant warding against my presence, he would have died as soon as he finished that ritual,” a voice whispered unkindly. “Eyes bursting from his sockets like those illustrations you find so captivating.”

Beck glanced first at the heavy tome at the corner of his desk. The page was open to the sketches of individuals who’d looked upon a god in their true form. His gaze then rose, staring in disbelief as a man loomed before his desk. The orange eyes set upon golden skin seemed familiar to Beck. Then again, every Igni looked similar with the dark hair, sun-kissed skin, and the smoldering appearance of someone who’d barely escaped the prospect of wicked sunburn.

His attention dropped to the hair, immediately noticing the braid. _Royalty_! And the numerous bars on the military uniform.

Josiah. The _king._ The Igni king.

Oh… _Varuna._ What had he gotten himself into?

Beck stared at the man—entity—certain it was Agni. His eyes widened. His mouth dropped open with silent attempts at speech. He wanted to apologize, to spurt out nonsense and get on his knees. Only, he froze in place. His limbs were heavy with shock and paralyzed with fear. Never in his life had he believed he’d actually encounter a _god._ Especially one of the Big Four.

“But you knew that, didn’t you?” Agni inquired. When Beck did not answer, the god leaned closer. “Didn’t you?” he demanded sharply.

Beck stuttered inanely. “I—I—it’s not…” he took a shuddering breath, all under the attentive eyes of Agni. “I figured you would kill him for attempting the ritual in the first place. I—I thought I was doing you a favor!”

“A favor? Unfortunately for you,” Agni started, placing a hand on his desk, “I take the protection of this foolish mortal very seriously.”  

“But he’s a mortal,” Beck gushed.

Agni levelled him with a blasé stare, surely not impressed with Beck’s purposeless declaration. Nonetheless, the hand on the desk withdrew and Agni took a step back, performing a close inspection of his surroundings. Beck suddenly felt ashamed for the day old plates of food and the disheveled, unwashed bed.

“You are not a true practitioner.”

“I’m not, no. I’m not a Magi,” Beck replied promptly, realizing too late that Agni did not pose it as a question, but rather a casual statement.

The god ignored him. “The ritual was not one I have encountered before, nor had I anticipated it would work.”

That roused Beck’s curiosity. “It worked?” he asked stupidly. “But clearly, it didn’t keep you away for long, assuming the boy performed the ritual this evening.”

Orange eyes cut through the room and focused on him with cruel distaste. “ _The boy’s_ name is Ezra,” Agni corrected deliberately.

At the unsettling tone, Beck stiffened and reared back in his chair. It was if the god thought the boy— _Ezra—_ was far too superior for another mortal to address so impertinently. And wasn’t that the truth? If Agni deemed a mere mortal important enough to address by name, then there had to be something unique about the kid.

“The ritual kept me away long enough to pique my interest.”

_Long enough to keep you alive for questioning._ “He must really dislike you,” Beck blurted. He hurried when the god’s expression darkened further. “Mortals treat gods with the highest form of respect and reverence. I created this ritual myself. It was all about expelling you from an unwelcome territory. He had to have strong reasons why you, Agni, were not his god to worship.”

“He disowned me.”

Beck offered a semblance of a shrug and a nod. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

The vessel of Agni withdrew mentally, his eyes distant, his expression closed. Suddenly, an unnerving smile twisted his lips. Something only the god was privy to seemed to amuse him greatly. “Did he inquire about daemons?”

Agni circled back towards Beck. It was not entirely prevalent before, but an aura of indestructibility cloaked the vessel with impenetrable armor. A flourish accompanied his every step, as if he were accustomed to everyone falling to his or her knees before him. A sort of lethal arrogance. Pungent with a sense of rightful entitlement. He had grace. He had power. He was an ancient entity.

Beck’s eyes glazed over, realizing he was only seeing a sliver of the god. If Agni could live amongst the scrutiny of mortals for decades without notice, he was an expert at cloaking himself with the skin of those who followed him.

Sheep.

“Scholars are often times withdrawn from reality, though I hadn’t realized the extent was to the point of blatant disrespect,” Agni whispered when his question remained unanswered.

Beck shook himself. Though he’d momentarily grew distracted from the conversation, Agni’s question burned into his mind, each word imprinted on his conscience. How could Agni accuse Beck of ignoring him? Everything Agni did, Beck found himself captivated. There was a _god_ before him! He couldn’t believe it!

“No,” he replied hoarsely. Agni observed him, appearing unconvinced.  “I was told he would ask me about daemons,” Beck said. “When he got here, he said he’d intended to ask about them, but was preoccupied with gods.”

Beck was curious.

So very curious.

He had so many questions. The urge to sit back and listen to histories proved challenging to quell. He had to remind himself that Agni, in all the fables and narrates, was not a patient god—nor friendly. He wouldn’t be getting his answers, least of all from the fire god. Instead, he recognized that he’d overstepped somehow, that his advice to the boy had upset Agni. His only saving grace was that the boy had lived.

“Are you going to kill me?”

“You intended to kill my mortal.”

Beck lowered his neck, staring at the book in front of him. “I was unaware gods claimed mortals for themselves.” He looked up at Agni. “I could be of use.” His desperate suggestion seemed to please Agni greatly. Beck hesitated, wondering if he was close to sparing his own life. He had to go for it. “I don’t know what your intentions are with him… but it’s clear he’d come to me if he needs answers. I could manipulate things to your favor. Make him more dependent upon you. Make him trust you,” Beck persuaded.

Orange eyes slanted. “If I left you alive, he’d be clever enough to know you are under my control.” Clearly deeming the conversation over, Agni walked toward the stairs. “Molding him is my responsibility. Delegating it to you would be an insult to me. To him.”  

“Agni! Please!”

Beck scrambled up, knocking over the kerosene lamp. He made a noise of distress as he lunged across the desk, hoping to catch it before it made impact. Only, his large mass shoved the table forward, not only knocking the lamp over, but the desk itself. The numerous books and parchments on the ground caught flame immediately. It circled and surrounded him, caging him against his nook.

Backed against the wall, he looked up desperately, prepared to plead once more.

Only, his tongue turned to stone as his gaze locked with glowing crimson. The eyes, set upon the dark, silhouette of a man, did not belong to a human being. They squinted decadently, observing him from the other side of the fire with cold, detached amusement.

Beck shuddered, terrified into silence.

Surrounded by flames and an angry fire god, Beck knew his fate. As the fire ate away at his skin, and as his screams turned blood curdling, Agni continued to observe, his eyes glowing as radiantly as the surrounding fire.

 

 

*** * * ***

 

The smugness died.

The arrogance withered.

Coming down from his conquest, Micah realized his situation was quite delicate. He wasn’t egotistical enough to believe he could savor his win unconditionally. It was essential he remain on his toes and ground himself. After all, he wasn’t dealing with Josiah, but _Agni,_ the ancient god of fire. Masses, upon masses of people worshiped this entity every day, every night. They created rituals around this entity to appease him. If the fables proved accurate, Agni was also a short-tempered, furious god.

Moreover, the god was determined to reestablish the Igni Empire.

It’s why he grounded himself in the mortal realm, wasn’t it? And rightfully so. His people were in danger of extinction, forced to conform within Unda’s standards and posh society. Religion and tradition would falter—break apart— for the sake of political and social survival in the new age. What better way to secure a new rise than to bodily possess their born king and seduce the crowned heir of the new kingdom?

Agni also displayed a sort of possessive consideration towards him, a twisted and unhealthy sort of righteous claim. Micah was convenient alive, and yet, it was not necessary to keep him alive. Micah had known that, even last night when he’d exorcised the god.

He just wasn’t hit with the implications until that morning.

There was a reasonable sliver of fear, but Micah had never feared death like many of his peers. He feared loss of dignity, loss of pride. He considered Josiah—the true Josiah—and feared a fate similar to that of his uncle.

If Agni wanted to kill him, he would have done it hours ago. 

No, Micah would continue as he was. He’d defend the capital against any sort of genocide Agni had planned for the Unda people. There were ways to reestablish the Igni culture without destroying another culture in the process.

“Shades of blue, purple, I think. Something that brings out his eyes.”

Micah tried not to scowl too hard as the tailor took his measurements.

He’d woken to a sharp rap at his door. Without properly waiting for an invitation to enter, a man and woman shuffled inside, fabrics and tools in tow. They said the king requested a new wardrobe for him, but a fitting was necessary. After the tailors slammed the door closed on the guards positioned at Micah’s door, they set up shop just outside his bedroom. They proceeded to interact together as if Micah were invisible, yet his skin crawled with the woman’s obvious appreciation of his physique.

The three-paneled mirror caught his exasperation.

It also reflected the door to the bedroom he’d slept in last night.

After Micah explained the situation to his team, Josiah had dropped him off here late last evening. He had declared it Micah’s new living quarters. It was an excessively large wing with a separate seating area, a small study, an on suite bathroom, and a bedroom large enough to make Micah scratch his head. 

Everything made him uncomfortable in the private wing. It was too much. Excessively too much.

Behind him, a dark figure moved past his immobile form.

“Reds and blacks as well. He is part Igni, after all.”

Micah stiffened, much to the chagrin of the man measuring his shoulder span. From the corner of his eye, he watched Josiah loom over the female, peering down at her notes. Surrounding the Igni king was an unmistakable red-gold aura.

Agni was back.

_Agni._

Micah suddenly felt a mixture of extreme excitement and trepidation.

“He is a man, not a doll,” Josiah informed sharply. “Absolutely no frills. No lace. I strongly suggest you use the military uniform as exemplary. It’s what he’s most comfortable with as he does extreme physical activities.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

If Micah weren’t so preoccupied with the god’s return, he would have experienced far more indignation over their plan to don him in lace. While he wasn’t particularly knowledgeable about high society fashion, he’d be humiliated to go into battle with _frills._

Josiah looped around and approached Micah.

Each step closer, Micah found it more challenging to breathe. The man came to a stop directly in front of him, forcing Micah’s averted gaze on to him. Absolutely _nothing_ showed on the entity’s face. No cruel amusement, no anger, nothing but a deadpanned expression. Somehow, that was more frightening than outright fury.

Micah stared back, his face slack, his pulse eager. Standing before the ancient god in his underwear certainly wasn’t how he had wanted to face Agni again. Perhaps the man had done it on purpose. He wanted Micah’s humility and submission.

The tailors did nothing to hide their inquisitive scrutiny. Under their watchful eyes, Josiah reached over and boldly trailed his fingers across Micah’s cheekbone.

Restating his claim.

Almost like scent-marking.

Micah’s jaw clenched and his expression turned to stone. His body remained stiff and uncooperative to the man’s claim. Through steely eyes, he watched the god, refusing to show any sort of outward reaction.

“I heard your competitors experienced a fire last night,” Josiah commented airily. Though he looked directly at Micah, he addressed the two tailors. “Fortunately, the owners were not inside the building at the time.”

“No, but there was a casualty,” the woman informed.

“Two casualties,” the male tailor corrected. “They haven’t identified the bodies yet.”

Micah’s blood turned cold. Beck, the Noir User scholar, lived above the tailor shop.

Josiah ducked his head close to Micah’s ear. “Foolish boy,” the man whispered as the two tailors continued speaking about the tragedy of the fire. “What have I told you about loose ends?”

It grated on Micah that he hadn’t thought to consider the situation a _loose end_. Yes, he knew Beck would incur the wrath of Agni once the god recovered possession of Josiah, yet Micah hadn’t properly understood the severity of the situation. Being preoccupied at the time shouldn’t have prevented him from thinking clearly. Not only was Micah potentially shedding a spotlight on Agni’s presence in their realm, but it also wouldn’t look good for a prince to visit a Noir User guru.

Especially after the capital’s attack.

Nonetheless, the notion of Beck’s death upset him. While peculiar, the man was brilliant and he was useful alive. Micah still had questions, questions he knew Agni would not answer.

Josiah dropped his hand and turned his shoulder. To Micah’s dismay, the man settled in the chair that conveniently faced the tailoring. Crossing his legs, the Igni king simply watched him with a face eerily void of emotion.

At first, Micah stubbornly stared ahead, uncomfortable under the stare.  

Then he realized Josiah’s tactic.

He wasn’t submissive nor afraid.

With determined resolve, Micah focused intently on Josiah, not blinking, not looking away. It was a battle of wills, both competitors stubborn and strongminded. Surprisingly, Josiah looked away first. Only, it wasn’t away from Micah, but rather with a languid, appreciative stare down his body. Micah flushed under the obsessive and deliberate leering. With his eyes alone, Agni had the ability to dirty and taint every inch of him. Micah grew disgusted with himself for being so provoked.

He turned his cheek and stared at his reflection.

Discovering Josiah was actually Agni would change a great deal of things, and yet, oddly enough, it did not feel entirely different.

Not at all.

Agni was the same man Micah had interacted with since his childhood. The man was still arrogant, still cruel, and he still straddled the line between ally and adversary. Micah would try to address the man as Josiah _,_ even in his head, as to create a distinction. Agni may be a different entity all together, but when he was in possession of the Igni king, he was Josiah. _Micah’s Josiah_. Thinking of the man as a god was far too overwhelming.

For now, at least.

“Did you sleep well?” Josiah inquired. “In your new glided cage?”

Micah blinked slowly at his reflection, reminded of the night Josiah claimed Micah would join him under palace arrest. He hadn’t believed it would be so soon.

Either had his team.

Last night, they’d appeared distant, silent, and entirely clammed up. Micah had a difficult time leaving them, reassuring them it was not a farewell, but rather a brief departure. They knew better, however. They’d looked at him with jaded, hollow eyes, far too accustomed to losing team members to show much emotion. He still hadn’t come to terms with never going back to the academy. Never leading his team and seeing them improve each day.

He wanted to speak to Calder alone.

When his father made the announcement he would not attend the academy any longer, Micah had been distracted with Agni. Moreover, the Royal Council had been in attendance. Arguing with Calder at that point would have been counterproductive. He anticipated he’d have a better chance of persuading Calder if it was in private.

Then again, Calder was hardly ever alone.

“I got lost in the sheets,” Micah replied distantly, not rising to the bait.

“It is a large bed,” Josiah agreed. “Certainly not made for just one.”     

And so it appeared they were to resume their typical dance. Uninterrupted. Erasing all evidence of awkwardness their reunion may have possessed, Josiah blazed ahead by settling them into their accustomed roles. Oddly grateful for the man, and revering in the familiarity of their interaction, Micah caught the female tailor’s wicked grin from over his shoulder. She appeared pleasantly scandalized, recognizing Josiah’s comment for what it was.

“You’re right,” Micah drawled. “It won’t be too difficult to fill that void.”

“Don’t delusion yourself, child. You know exactly who will fill that void.”

“On the contrary,” he started, looking at the man firmly. “I know exactly who _will not_ fill that position, uncle.” He wanted Josiah to feel the weight of each word and recognize the truth behind them.

The tailors traded intrigued looks. If Josiah wanted to start this particular conversation in front of the public, then Micah had no qualms playing along. He’d use it to his advantage, certainly not inclined to roll over and acknowledge Josiah’s posturing claim. A consort. Micah withheld the temptation to snort. As if he would allow the public to conceive such a silly notion.

Before Josiah had the opportunity to counter, the door opened again. Micah stared incomprehensibly as a group of people sauntered inside the bedroom without any sort of greeting or invitation.

Did closed doors around the palace not symbolize the unspoken request for privacy?

“Good, you’re getting your fitting,” Calder observed.

“Just finished, Your Majesty,” the male tailor informed. He straightened from his crouch and wrapped his long measuring rope into a neat, tidy bow. “We will have the first wardrobe delivered by the end of the week. A few articles of clothing will be tailored and delivered promptly so he has something to wear before then.”

Micah looked around for his uniform, a scathing remark at the tip of his tongue. Clearly, high society interacted often in undergarments and lack of privacy. He then realized that royalty was just that—transparent and dutifully public. Surely there had to be some protocols that would grant him a semblance of discretion? Then again, he reluctantly realized that Calder was the king and had every right to barge into rooms without any sort of hesitancy.

Hopefully this was a very rare occurrence.

“All clean and pressed.”

A blonde woman thrust his pressed and strong-smelling uniform in his arms. It smelt of laundering fragrancies and other chemicals he could not identify. Impossible. He’d just discarded it on the floor when the tailors came in, not even an hour earlier.

The uniform was spotless—like new.

“For today, it best you be dressed in your academy uniform.” She smiled amiably and appraised his bedridden curls with something akin to fond disproval. “How quickly does your hair grow, Your Highness?”

“Grow?” Micah repeated, not understanding the relevance of the question. He tried to feign casualness as he put on his pants, though he was desperate for a barrier. Any sort of barrier to this strange, uncomprehending environment. First Agni, now strange people observing him in his undergarments as if it were acceptable. Things truly were surreal.

“Yes. For braids.”

“I…” he shook his head, overwhelmed when he surveyed the group of people in his room. Now he understood why his quarters were so large. Apparently, it was to hold conferences and the like. “I don’t intend to grow it out. Ever.”

“Pity.” She appeared peeved. “Perhaps we can persuade you otherwise.” Her attention then landed on the fingerless gloves he wore everywhere, every day. “There are some improvements to be made, but really, quite easy on the eyes. Very easy.”

Micah stared.

“Ezra, this is Ara,” Calder introduced the stern-looking, young woman. “She handles an array of tasks, including social advisory and—”

“Personal designer?” Micah inquired dryly.  

She had the audacity to smile sinisterly. “My job is to make royals look their best, Your Highness. Appearances, mannerisms, and social presences. I plan several events for the royal family and have many years of experience.”

_Impressive._ Micah did not say it, because he knew they’d immediately identify his remark for what it was. Mockery.

Ara surged ahead and quickly introduced the array of men and women in the room, each of whom would serve him in some, specific way. He did not retain any of the information, though they all appeared quite proud of their status. They were not mere servants, Ara explicitly informed, but they did serve the crown with their array of specialties.

Finally, Ara gestured toward someone in the back of the group.

A familiar-looking Igni man made his way forward, past the others in his way. Micah’s attention honed immediately, fixated and enthralled all at the same time.

Dread settled in his stomach.

The familiar, dependent sensation was back. A vulnerability he could not—would not— tolerate.

“Your uncle indicated he wants you to have a traditional Healer,” Ara intoned with a glance at Josiah. “This is Healer Haken Anwar. He and his grandfather, Healer Brenton, will serve your health needs by taking residency in the palace.”

Micah’s gaze sharpened predatorily as Haken moved forward, smiling wryly. He moved and Micah mirrored him, feeling the connection— _their_ connection—with subconscious clarity. Chests parallel, Micah could taste the potential for further power. All he needed to do was accept this connection to his Chosen.

It grated on him. Angered him. To be so _weak_ to accept someone else in obtaining more power. It was revolting.

“Your Highness,” Haken greeted warmly, bowing low at his waist. “It is good to see you again.”

Micah lurched forward, stopping himself abruptly from following the bow with his body. Hastily, he straightened, feeling the eyes and the focused suspicion from Josiah. The Igni king’s regard beat across his skin hotly, sharp and unrelenting before abruptly leaving him cold as he refocused on Haken. From the corner of Micah’s eye, he noticed Josiah raising a hand and curling it against his mouth with sick pleasure.

Of course Josiah would immediately identify the connection. Why wouldn’t he? That, in itself, nearly upset Micah as much as Haken’s reappearance in his life. He’d wanted to keep Haken away, alive, and to keep Josiah oblivious. Moreover, he wanted to hold something over Josiah’s head, the secret identity of his real Chosen. Unfortunately, Micah’s advantage hurriedly slipped through his fingers.

“Healer Anwar,” Micah murmured stiffly.

“Old acquaintances?” Ara asked.

“Oh yes,” Haken replied with a suspicious amount of casualty for interacting with royalty. He smirked at Micah. “I know him by a different name.”

Micah revealed nothing as he observed the other man. There was a pompous mischievousness about the fire Elemental. Last term, Micah denied him the satisfaction of acknowledging their Chosen status. Now, it appeared as if Haken was happy to hold a _scandalous_ secret over Micah’s head. Despite the silliness of it, the situation really was disreputable.

If _Calder_ caught wind, if the public caught wind…

Josiah’s reputation would be soiled for claiming a nonexistent bond toward his child nephew.

Then again, who was Haken? Compared to Josiah, he was nothing. The public would declare Haken a fraud, a fake. They’d think him a deceiver. Of course he’d want to declare himself the crowned prince’s Chosen. No one would believe him. They’d scorn him and ridicule him for needing untoward attention. There was no way to prove the actuality to his proclamations.

Micah had flirted with the temptation of refuting Josiah’s claim that they were Chosen. However, if he decided to refute Josiah’s claim, _he_ would be the one to do it. Not this man, not someone who planned to use it as blackmail.

Haken had the look about him as if he intended to do just that. A far cry from the disheveled apprentice Micah bumped into last term. Perhaps he wasn’t so unassumingly ordinary. Perhaps Micah could entertain himself with the man.

“It is truly a pleasure to see you again,” Micah crooned.

Haken faltered just briefly, not expecting Micah to be quite so blasé about his reappearance. Nonetheless, the other man recovered quickly and nodded sharply.

Foolish man.

Micah smiled thinly, feeling a certain darkness crawl inside him. He already detested the fire Elemental for holding such a sway over his instincts. His dislike for his _Chosen_ only heightened at his sheer _audacity._ Haken truly thought he could blackmail Micah. It was laughable. The man would not last long under the direct scrutiny of both Micah and Josiah.

And Josiah…

Who knew what the man planned, if anything. He appeared angry enough last term at the mere mention of competition. Yet, Micah had a feeling, now that Josiah knew who it was, he would prefer to keep Haken alive while he considered his possibilities. Haken truly did not realize the extent of the scrutiny he’d just invited.

Fortunately, the introductions did not last much longer. Ara made everyone bow again, say their farewells, before shooing them from the bedroom. Micah watched them go, his eyes lingering on Haken’s unprotected back.

“You are to make a scheduled appearance outside the palace today. You will focus on volunteering with the cleanup,” Calder said as soon as the door closed behind the group. “The repercussions of the attack incurred strong sentiments of vulnerability and uncertainty with the public. It will be a comfort for them to see you actively help and support the capital.”

Relishing in finally being alone with his father and Josiah, Micah couldn’t help but to find Calder’s comment humorous. “I don’t think the public will find my presence reassuring.”

“Why do you assume such a thing?” Calder lingered near Josiah, who remained sitting haughtily in the armchair near the mirrors.

Micah scoffed, bitter.

Shrugging on his jacket, he preoccupied himself with fastening the buttons. He did not speak for quite some time. His mind worked fervently to try to get him up to speed with the extreme change of environment. Between his new surroundings and the revelation of Josiah’s identity, Micah needed to reestablish his balance.

“The last time I made a public appearance, a riot broke out at the mere sight of me.” Micah looked at his father, recalling the outbreak when he and Kai stood on the steps of the palace. “Do not swaddle me with false encouragement,” he requested icily. “Many are against the very idea of me inheriting the crown.”

Josiah smiled thinly.

“I am not swaddling you,” Calder countered serenely. “Swaddling you would be keeping you inside these palace walls. There will always be those who oppose the crown, no matter who sits on the throne. It is not their place to make those decisions.”  

“It goes beyond just the general public,” Micah argued. “You know this.”

“When have you ever balked at the notion of a challenge?”

Upon Josiah’s question, Micah looked pointedly at the man. “You know I’m more than prepared to take on a challenge despite the prospective consequences.”

That tickled the man. “Then what is your concern, Ezra?”

“I have no _concerns_.”

Josiah waved a lazy hand. “Then it’s settled. You will charm the public today with your willingness to lend a helping hand.”

Calder was already walking towards the door, appearing as if he had a number of pressing appointments for the day. “You will constantly be escorted by members of the royal guard. You—”

“Your royal guards or Josiah’s?” Micah interrupted.  “Because that will also make a political statement. With both of you having opposing guards, the public will draw untoward conclusions about my interests if one group surrounds me over the other.”

“You will be making far more public appearances with your uncle as opposed to me initially,” Calder explained patiently. “Having my guards there will level the bias. When Josiah is not present and I am, we will use his guards.”

Micah showed no outward reaction, though the thought of Josiah accompanying him in public made him unhappy. That was already decided for him. His guards were decided for him. His wardrobe. His schedule. Anything and everything.

Calder opened the door, motioning for a man to enter. Behind the newcomer, a group of other blue-clad guards lingered in the corridor. As his father abruptly left the room in a hurry, half the guards followed at his heels. Micah stared after him, speechless. “How do I go about scheduling a private appointment with the king?” Micah inquired dryly.

Inclining his head, he turned to look a Josiah.

The man watched the proceedings with rapt attention. With a thin veil of amusement, he considered the guard Calder instructed to stand inside the room. “I’m afraid he’s booked until the end of the week.” Josiah’s gaze nearly smoldered. “Fortunately for you, my schedule is particularly empty. You and I will be spending a great deal of time together.”

“And you assume that’s reassuring news to me?”

“I never want you to be reassured in my presence, Ezra,” Josiah countered smugly. “Takes the fun out of it, no?”

Micah scowled and turned to look at the guard who stood impassively at the door. He had an endless amount of questions for Josiah—Agni—but on the other hand, did he really need to know the answers? He had a good inclination of what Agni intended to achieve in their world. Addressing it just reminded Micah of his own inferiority. Whatever game Josiah wanted to play, it didn’t change the fact that Micah was mortal. He was a simple game piece.

Disposable. Weak.

At any rate, the questions he did have would have to wait with the presence of Calder’s guard positioned stubbornly in his rooms. The man appeared vaguely familiar to Micah. Quickly, he identified it as the captain who’d escorted him to the palace just yesterday. The one who’d been displeased about letting Kai into the throne room. The same irritation from yesterday seemed to shroud the man this morning.

He looked at Micah and inclined his head. “If you’re ready, Your Highness, I am to escort you to breakfast and then to the volunteer center.”

Withholding a sigh, Micah nodded mutely.

Without looking back at Josiah, he followed the man from the bedroom, immediately surrounded and flanked by the other royal guards. The gilded walls of his cage closed in around him, becoming nearly suffocating in their captivity.

His freedom fled down the opposite corridor, just out of reach.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you're all waiting for. *That* conversation. That unveiled, private conversation between Agni and Ezra. *Clears throat*. Chapter 12, promise. Next chapter should be up shortly (tomorrow after work? perhaps Wednesday evening?). Because chapter 11 is quite the filler chapter, even more so than this one *strokes 11 comfortingly*.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**11\. Chapter Eleven**

 

“Hello, Kai.”

The greeting was not warm nor inviting, but rather riddled with scorn and sarcasm. The blonde-haired female who acknowledged him used to be his intended, Brooke Glyndwr. It was unsurprising to see her sitting superiorly amongst other young women of the court, their gazes all sizing him, judging him.

“Where is your handsome friend?”

“You mean, _His Royal Highness_?” Kai retorted with a curl to his lip from the lack of proper etiquette. “I imagine Prince Ezra has far more important things to attend to rather than entertaining you ladies.”

They looked at one another, as if trying to gauge the depth of the insult.

Brooke merely smiled. “Pity. He is very pleasing to look at.”

“And belonging entirely to the fire lord. Someone you do not stand a chance against.”

Micah would hate Kai for saying it, for declaring that he belonged to the very same man who was _not_ his Chosen and whom he appeared to despise, but Kai wanted to see Brooke’s smugness die.

It did not. If anything, she appeared elated. “We shall see,” she purred victoriously. Her curled lashes lowered as she gathered a saucer from the table. “Rumors say he is not spoken for, which means we need to prepare to court a royal prince.” She motioned to the women around her. In response, they straightened proudly as if Micah stood in the room.

It was Kai’s turn to smile.

The very idea of Micah settling with one of these silly females did not conjure itself. They would never challenge him. They would never stimulate and provoke him. If Kai weren’t so preoccupied, he would have laughed.

Instead, he moved past Brooke and her allies without another word. Focusing on the closed door at the far end of the parlor, Kai readied himself for the imminent confrontation. This morning, his father summoned him from the academy, requesting an appointment at the Glyndwr household. Kai was no fool. His father planned to give him an ultimatum. An ultimatum in front of the highest nobility.

It took the man long enough.

Seaton very much enjoyed the silk blindfold. He liked to wrap it around his eyes and go forth with far more confidence blind than he would all seeing. For being such a distrusting man, Seaton expected and anticipated others to follow in his blind wake. Everything else was insignificant, invisible. Including his only son.

Knocking confidently on the door, Kai waited for the muffled call to enter.

“Kai, you are as punctual as ever.”

As he entered the large parlor, fine brandy and leather hit his senses with a noxious cloud of pretentiousness. The men inside the room could not have formed a more intimidating seating arrangement if they tried. Alternatively, perhaps they _did_ try. Kai quickly noted all the Unda councilmembers were present. Of course, Cain’s mother, Cordelia Abital, was not present, and of course the unbridled Sachiel was absent.

In their place, Nereus Edlen sat smugly next to his father, Muriel. His cousin simpered smugly, treating his armchair with a victorious tap, as if it were a throne. In all pretentions, it was.

“Please, sit.” Seaton motioned to the only remaining chair.

Amongst the group, it was the shortest and smallest seat. Though the chairs formed a circle of sorts, with end tables strewn between, Kai noticed most of them faced his designated position as if he were on trial.

He approached the chair with a straight spine.

As he settled in the uncomfortable leather, he calmly met the gaze of each man. This was retribution. This was the final act. Seaton had opened his fist, realizing Kai had somehow managed to wiggle his way from his palm. In an attempt to reel him back, Seaton had used the silent treatment and rallied other nobles to treat him taciturnly.

Seaton’s awareness of Kai’s independence started when Kai made the decision to merge his team with a faceless group of commoners. Said commoner turned out to be the royal heir. Yet, Seaton was still not satisfied, simply because Ezra was not malleable. Ezra was a twist of fate who did not conform to Unda aristocratic standards and expectations.   

It was exactly what Kai aimed to be.

Unpredictable. Volatile. He envied Micah.

“I believe you understand why you’re here today, Kai,” Seaton started, gazing unkindly at his son. “Your uncle and I have tried to realign your behavior with subtlety. Alas, you did not show signs of calibrating.”

Kai raised his chin. “Define what it means to realign and calibrate.”

“Calibrate with our traditions. With our culture,” Glyndwr answered.

“I have done that. I have… calibrated with our traditions. With our culture,” Kai replied. “I have conducted myself with pride and actively strived to better myself as a way to give back to our kingdom.”

“You do have an abundance of pride, yes,” his uncle confirmed acerbically. “You are not lacking in that extent. Your allegiances, however, are cause for concern. In the Unda culture, we must take care of our own.” 

 _Of our own,_ meaning pureblooded Undas.

Kai focused on his father, seeing his grandfather and great-grandfather staring back at him.

In their manor, they had a corridor dedicated to portraits of the Edlen predecessors. As a child, Kai remembered standing in front of that massive wall and drawing the conclusion that they were all the same. They were identical. They existed for the sole purpose of continuing on the ancient bloodline. He feared turning into another echo of his ancestors, another faceless and generic Edlen to adorn the wall. His great-grandson would look upon his portrait and wonder just what he’d accomplished that set him apart from all the others.

Then he met Sachiel and that fear turned to quiet defiance.

“Let us drop the pretenses,” Kai started. “You are upset that I am putting my loyalty behind the crown rather than my fellow nobles.”

“You put your loyalty behind that _boy_ before his ties to the throne were known.” His father animated, leaning forward in his chair and breaking the image of the unruffled noble. “What about him do you find worthy enough to forsake your peers for?”

Kai liked to emphasize he was following the crown. Yet his father easily saw through that proclamation and exposed the truth.

Kai followed Micah Egan, not Prince Ezra.

What was it about Egan that had immediately ensnared Kai’s attention? The answer came to him quickly in the form of a fond memory. It was before the trails, when the nameless biracial young man stepped confidently into the banquet room. Eyes around the room had turned in his direction, ensnared, intrigued with his appearance, with the regal way he moved.

Moreover, Egan ensnared Kai’s attention during the trials. When Egan, a wholly unknown, stood up to Nereus. It was when he’d looked up at Kai smugly on the track. It was when he’d publically humiliated Kai during their duel in retribution for mocking Aiden.

Most importantly, it was after the trials when Micah hurdled his body on top his and saved Kai during their first mission. It was when Micah stood tall and tried to shoulder the blame for their performance the night of Wayde’s death. It was when Micah removed Keegan Flint’s parka and donned it to sacrifice himself in his friend’s place. It was when Micah’s voice cracked with such raw, overwhelming emotion as he said goodbye to a brother. It was Micah’s determination to take his royal lineage seriously when he recognized Kai’s political sacrifices.

Something raw, something beautifully untamed and irresistibly alluring cloaked Egan like a second skin. Others in his proximity saw it too, but Kai appreciated it better than most.

He refocused on his father and smirked. “Everything.”

Seaton leaned back in his chair, his expression turning impassively blank. The others appeared scandalized, Nereus especially. His cousin adopted a look of intense disgust, as if Kai had just proclaimed his undying love for Micah Egan.

“He is the prince,” Kai continued emotionlessly. “Fortunately, I have come to respect him in addition to our family’s promise to serve the crown faithfully.”

“He is dirtied.”

Kai’s eyes sharpened. “He possess far more royal blood than any of his predecessors.”

“The Igni people are filthy _snakes_.” Seaton pressed his hand on his armrest in controlled anger. “His vengeful uncle does not only whisper in his ear but is his voice of reason. It is unacceptable.”

“You’re insinuating treason.”

Muriel smiled thinly, almost spitefully. “We are saying no such thing. There are times, however, we need to break our family motto and protect our people foremost.”

_Before the crown._

Kai took a steadying breath and contemplated the situation. Rather suddenly, he remembered his excursion with Egan to the outskirt regions between terms. Often times he thought back to the children there, their hungry, fearful eyes and large, malnourished bellies always igniting something ugly within him.

They were scared, Kai realized. Not the children, but the nobles. Scared of losing their prestige, their honor, their decades-old title of nobility. Moreover, they were scared of change.

Micah represented that unpleasant transformation.

Micah who would never, _ever_ turn a blind eye to the outskirt regions. He would induce revolution. And the nobles were petrified.

“Lord Josiah is a close advisor,” Kai started slowly, cautiously. “Naturally, Ezra will glean impressions and ideas from him. In order to offset the total Igni influence, the prince needs an Unda he trusts. Let me be that advisor, the one who protects _our people_.”

Outright challenging them would not get him anywhere. Outright changing his stance to reflect theirs, however, would also invite suspicion. Kai had to slow down their momentum and give them time to mull over the possibility of influencing Micah versus trying to destroy him. Only, as his father and uncle traded significant looks, Kai realized he’d played right into their hands. Before he stepped foot inside the room, his father had already made up his mind about what to do with him.

“A brilliant suggestion, Kai,” Seaton praised. “Only, before you can take the position as the prince’s advisor, we feel as if we need to purge your more radical beliefs.”

Kai stiffened.

Muriel smiled darkly.

“You seem to have the wrong impression of the Igni people.” Seaton stood up slowly. “Perhaps it is time you see the real Igni culture without the benefit of gold in your pockets and a biracial child as protection.”

Someone smothered a cloth bag over his head. Kai struggled, but abruptly stilled when a string tightened around his neck. As he breathed in, a sweet smelling scent invaded his nostrils. Panic swelled briefly before his senses dulled and darkened.

“You seem to have grown too comfortable with your birthright, Kai,” his father murmured. “You take everything I have given you for granted. No more. You will _heel._ ”

They were fools.

Not only did Micah possess royal blood, he possessed power. This would only serve to incite that power.

 

 

*** * * ***

 

Most of the public seemed genuinely pleased to see him.

Flaked with Calder’s royal guards, his identify was no speculation. Micah wasn’t particularly pleased with the prospect of public recognition, especially if it amounted to constant surveillance. Everyone watched him—leered—more like. He understood royalty was a class above them all. Commoners found royals fanatical and mystical. In the end, however, royals were just ordinary people with uncomfortable clothing.

Micah adjusted his coat again, trying to shift his shoulders to loosen the fabric. As he did so, he caught the eyes of the other, opposing crowd. While most of the public appeared elated to see him, the other half appeared nearly hostile and dissatisfied that he’d make an appearance.

“They blame you for the attack.”

“Aiden,” Talia scolded.

He looked at his team, sans Kai, and grinned lightly. “Oh?”

He now understood why Ara suggested he wear his military uniform today. The cadets at the academy were assisting with the cleanup and he did not stand out nearly as much when donning the same attire. Originally, they requested he be on food duty, but when he saw his team working on manual labor, he joined them promptly.

Calder’s guards stood in a perimeter around him, their attention honed in different directions as they stubbornly refused to help with cleanup. Josiah also stood a distance away with other military men, engaging them in conversation. Micah dimly noted the military men soaked up Josiah’s presence and salivated for his attention. Did Calder not realize how much sway Josiah had over Unda’s military? Or was he just confident in his own sway that he did not feel threatened?

Talia appeared resentful. “The public will always draw incorrect assumptions.” She stood up from the ground and wiped her hands against her trousers. “But Aiden is right. Many people suspect the attack happened in order to assassinate you.”

“And therefore, I’m responsible for the deaths and the destruction?” Micah inquired with amusement. “It seems I am more trouble than I’m worth.”

“Naturally,” Viktor replied distractedly as he struggled to lift a rather large piece of debris. “We knew that a long time ago.” He flashed a winning smile at Cain, who appeared unconvinced and not at all obliged to join in the banter.

Micah lifted another broken boulder and dropped it onto the cart. The metal contraption jerked and groaned loudly as more weight settled on top the carriage. It didn’t appear as if it would last many more rounds, but it would suffice for now.

“I also heard you single-handedly defeated the assailants as well,” Aiden continued easily. “Either people are wholly for you, or they’re against you. There doesn’t seemed to be a middle ground, at least not from what I’ve heard. It’s rather strange, actually.” Aiden stood and observed his surroundings, taking far more breaks than the rest of the team.

With his hands on his hips, his eyes lingered repeatedly on Josiah. Micah tried not to scoff at the admiration in the boy’s gaze.

“What’s he like?” Aiden murmured. He turned and caught Micah’s eyes from the other side of the stone pile. “He’s really your Chosen?”

Micah ignored the last question. “He’s conceited, domineering, and entirely unpleasant.”

“Considering you just described yourself, Micah, I imagine you two get along famously,” Viktor quipped smartly.

Amusement curled Micah’s lip, readily approving and appreciating Viktor’s humor. The others didn’t appear particularly impressed, least of all Talia. She appeared tenser than usual as she threw herself into her work. As he observed her stubbornly set features, he remembered what Aedus and Ezra said about Talia’s mother. How she’d been a reputable warrior during the war, so much so that even Sachiel respected her. They’d also claimed she chose to stay in the capital despite the prospect of running into her ex-husband.

“I saw your mother yesterday, before the attack,” Micah said.

Talia flashed him a sour look. “I don’t know why she insists staying at the capital.”

 _To be closer to you_ , Micah thought, watching her busy herself with lifting another stone. He looked to his other teammates. Though Micah left them just yesterday, he felt as if their demeanor had changed dramatically. All of them appeared gloom. Micah was beginning to suspect that it wasn’t entirely because of his departure.

Something else bothered them and they all seemed resigned to keep it to themselves. They needed someone to guide them and work through their conflicts so they could move on. For the third time that day, he wondered where—

“Where is Kai?” Sachiel appeared at Micah’s shoulder, expressing exactly the same thing on Micah’s mind.

“He wasn’t at the academy this morning,” Cain answered. He looked at Micah. “We haven’t seen him since last night when Micah said he’d no longer be staying with us.”

That renowned Micah’s interest. “You said you wouldn’t know if he was going to be here, not that you haven’t seen him.”

Cain and Viktor had the audacity to appear guiltless. “Kai always leaves the academy,” Viktor defended. “Most the time he’s with you.”

Somehow, Micah withheld the strong urge to rub the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Was that jealousy in Viktor’s tone? Considering the circumstances, it was hardly the most appropriate time to convey any sort of envy.

Sachiel’s lips pressed into a thin line and he reached over to cup Micah’s shoulder. “Walk with me.”

“Scandalously informal with royalty,” Viktor whispered as Sachiel led Micah away.

Calder’s royal guard immediately folded around Micah and Sachiel, taking up position from every angle. Micah ran an unhappy eye across their blue-clad forms, never realizing how much he’d taken privacy for granted. “I hadn’t anticipated your father taking you out of the academy so quickly,” Sachiel started quietly. His hand slowly dropped from Micah’s shoulder. “It puts _things_ into motion.”

The man’s somberness was easy to identify. Observing Sachiel, Micah tried to peel back the vague statement and identify the true meaning behind his words. Though the guards remained at a respectful distance, Sachiel did not want to chance anyone overhearing. The last time Sachiel was this somber, he’d been talking about people who were against the very idea of Ezra taking the crown.

“Those things were bound to happen doubtless of when I left the academy.”

“Leaving the academy puts you in a vulnerable position.” Sachiel stopped. He looked towards the food tent where several citizens waited in line for their breakfast “It puts all of us in a precarious situation.”

“All of us?”

“Your allies, of course,” Sachiel replied pleasantly.

Micah stared unhappily at the man’s averted cheek. “You think Kai is in trouble?”

“I think we all are, you included,” the man murmured, nearly inaudibly. “The air has shifted. No one could prepare for Calder executing his move quite so soon. Sides have been drawn and a sense of urgency is prevalent.”

He was beginning to see exactly what worried Sachiel. Because Calder requested Micah to withdraw from the academy and relocate to the palace, he gave the impression he would crown him shortly. The nobles would see it that way. They would hurry and hope to cause as much damage as possible for Micah.

“A sense of urgency to abolish what little support their enemy may possess,” Micah concluded softly.

The nobles intended to go after Micah’s allies, then. Cripple him. Weaken him. The very notion he even _had_ allies was humorous to him, yet his teammates were his allies, weren’t they? At least the nobles would draw that conclusion. Moreover, they would see Sachiel as a close mentor and target the councilman just as well.

Did it end there? He wasn’t quite so arrogant to believe he’d achieved the Abitals’ loyalty; then again, their son was a member of his team. The nobles would find no fault going after family members if it meant scaring them from supporting Micah or convincing them to betray him. He glanced at his teammates, finding them glancing periodically back at him.

Was this the reason for their darkening moods?

Sachiel waved a hand towards a store that hadn’t been lucky to make it through the attack. He made languid hand gestures. To an observer, he’d be discussing the unfortunate outcome of the structure.

“They may not be able to stop you from taking the crown, but they will try their hardest to undermine you and make it as unfriendly environment for you as possible,” Sachiel whispered. “They will destroy your allies. They will send a message to others not to publically support you. You will sit on that throne and feel so alienated, so isolated.”

He wasn’t worried about himself. Sachiel’s warning set his teeth on edge for his team. “I am going to speak with Calder and ask to return to the academy,” Micah informed, turning away from the team and back to Sachiel. “If I speak with him alone, there is a possibility he’d bend. It won’t solve anything, but it will give us time.”

“He won’t bend,” Sachiel rebutted. “He wants to crown you as soon as possible.” Reading Micah’s stern defiance, the councilman inclined his head. “We will find another way.”

“To cover unprotected and unprepared backs?” Micah whispered fiercely.

Either Sachiel knew something with concrete evidence or he predicted an event occurring just on the horizon. Whatever it was, whatever he gleaned, it centered on the nobles making their move against Ezra. With his team so dispersed, Micah could do little to protect them. Sentimental reasons aside, with such little allies, he needed to keep each one in play.

“My duty as the Academy Chairman is the safety of my cadets.” Sachiel smiled pleasantly at one of the royal guards who’d taken an advancing step closer to the pair. “What you can do for me, Ezra, is to stay close to your uncle.”

Micah laughed bitterly upon that statement.

A fire god, hell-bent on destroying the Unda people, currently possessed his uncle. If Micah stood in the way, Agni would destroy him. Staying close to his uncle was not _possible._

Sachiel misread Micah’s bitterness. “Like him or not, he is the only one in the palace I trust to keep your head above the water.” Sachiel stepped away from Micah, sensing they’d conversed far too long. “We both know how well you excel at treading water, Your Highness. You may need assistance.”

Blue eyes narrowed on Sachiel’s sarcasm. “You will find Kai,” Micah ordered. “Bring him to me.”

As Sachiel bowed sardonically, a derogatory and racist slur suddenly sounded from an observer in the streets. The racist slur was loud enough—shocking enough— to cause Sachiel to straighten, his curt, political mask falling way to outrage as he stared over Micah’s shoulder.

Micah had heard the derogatory term growing up, even spoken here at the academy directly to his face amongst the noble children, though he hadn’t heard it as frequently as he would have expected. _Filthy cur_ was the chosen slur against biracial citizens that depicted them as dirtied and undesirable mutts. An inferior breed.

Those in the immediate proximity turned in Micah’s direction, the royal guards included. They weighed his expression and reaction with utmost curiosity and somberness.

How silly that a simple word could elicit a sense of shame. 

Micah pivoted on his heels, easily spying the man who had issued the insult. Surrounded by fellow numbers, the Unda man leaned against a brick wall as he waited in line for breakfast. His eyes were colorless, not particularly blue nor appealing. They focused, however, on Micah with single-minded intensity.

They were cruel eyes.

Around the man, his fellow comrades seemed to stick by, as if sharing his sentiments, though they appeared reluctantly engaged. They watched Micah steadily, perking when the royal heir advanced.

“Ezra—”

“Silence, Sachiel.”

Upon Micah’s sharp order, the stranger opposite of him sneered deeper. _Ah,_ now Micah understood what spurred this outburst.

He sauntered confidently up to the man, a fierceness ringing in his ears. “I have to wonder if you were trying to garner my attention or if you were just desperate to demonstrate your ineptness to the masses this morning.”

Those in line, who were not a part of the man’s entourage, looked down and cowered submissively as Micah came to a stop at the edge of the sidewalk. The majority who backed away were Igni, the others were Undas who wanted no part in the exchange.

“There is nothing against speaking freely about princes who aren’t sworn to the crown,” the man spat. He appeared pleased with himself for discovering a loophole for insulting royalty.

“No, I suppose not,” Micah answered calmly. “However, I’m afraid I didn’t quite catch what you were slurring at my turned back. Might you repeat it?”

Something hot and persistent throbbed behind his eyes as the man had the audacity to step forward and stare Micah down. Just over the man’s shoulder, something red flashed. Focusing his eyes, Micah stared at the sky overhead, taken aback at the sight before him. A red-gold web stretched above the capital, branding the sky with throbbing intensity. Each time it illuminated, Micah felt the hot, unmistakable irritation behind his eyes. It was almost as if it were spurring his hostility.   

“I said,” the man started, intentionally raising his voice. The web flashed victoriously. “An infamous Unda warrior and councilmember should never bow to a filthy _cur_.” For good measure, the man spit on Micah’s boots.

Micah had a calm reaction prepared.

He would have told the man he appreciated the polish, that all he needed was to get on his knees and shine the rest of his boots. Only, two of Calder’s guards lunged forward simultaneously, each slamming a palm against the man’s shoulders and smashing him against the wall. The man’s head made an audible _clunk_ against the stone, spurring his comrades to defend him.

Things only progressed from there. 

Before Micah could truly grasp the situation, Calder’s dogs grabbed him and bodily moved him away from the scene. They, along with other military members abruptly crowded him, blocking Micah’s sight to the outside world. All he saw were bodies encompassing him, shuffling him towards the carriage.

Just before they closed to door to the carriage, he spied Josiah sauntering over to the unruly crowd, his attention honed gleefully on the man who’d insulted Micah.

Above, the red-gold web thrummed satisfactorily.

 

 


	12. Chapter Twelve

**12\. Chapter Twelve**

Micah could only stifle so much before imploding.

They manhandled him, fed him, and dressed him like a doll. He tolerated the lack of privacy and acknowledged the evasive Calder. He’d felt powerless the past several hours and it only seemed to worsen with each passing minute. Powerless and incapable were adjectives to describe him now. It was exactly as he’d feared.

Taking the crown, or, agreeing to take the crown, left him an empty husk. A pretty decoration. A symbol of power and unity. A toy that remained off-limits and inactive. The things he’d enjoyed no longer applied to his lifestyle.

He’d never considered himself a depressed individual, yet the darkness _smothered_ and festered, leaving him miserable.

Time was also moving with agonizing slowness, accentuating his melancholy. It was only two days ago Micah woke up at the palace for the very first time. It was three days ago Calder told him he would not return to the academy. Three days ago, he’d revealed Josiah for what he really was and still could not truly face the truth without shying away. 

Burdened with Sachiel’s warnings, and struggling with unanswered questions, Micah found himself tightly coiled, but stubbornly unmoving. It was a contradictory impression… wanting to do _something_ but finding himself at a loss.

Moreover, he was currently traveling away from the capital, further tightening his anxiety with the distance and the suddenness of it all. He hoped Sachiel had already located Kai and planned to keep his entire team safe under academy protection.

“Leave us.”

Micah barely reacted as Josiah entered the train compartment with an ill-tempered bark towards the royal guards. As soon as they’d all boarded the train that morning, Calder’s guards took quick position. They sat around Micah in a loose formation as if they expected a confrontation on a train reserved only for palace and military members.

Currently, they were on their way to a political tour to both the Terra and Eurus Kingdoms.

Ara, one of Calder’s advisors, informed Micah of the impromptu—but oddly well planned out—trip that morning as she packed him new articles of clothing. Each outfit, each color, served to be a political statement, she’d said. He’d gone cross-eyed with disinterest as she lectured on the importance of each outfit.

After a quick breakfast, the guards then ushered him onto the train. 

The train left the capital before Micah could fully comprehend the situation or reach out to Sachiel. Clearly, Calder had schemed up this trip immediately after the capital attack, for they also brought with them the bodies of the individuals behind the violence. Calder wanted to send a message to their neighbors, Micah knew, but he failed to see why Calder would risk sending Micah to deliver it.

Quite frankly, at the moment, Micah just didn’t care to delve into Calder’s plans nor his intentions.  

Through lazy eyes, he observed the guards as they reacted to Josiah’s order. They stood reluctantly and gradually removed themselves from the common area. As each one departed, Micah felt an imaginary layer peel back, easing the burden across his shoulders. Despite the imminent confrontation with Josiah, it felt good to see their departure.

The captain of Calder’s guard hesitated near the door. The man’s dark eyes glanced between Micah and Josiah. “His Majesty requested I be present during all conversations between you and the prince.”

Josiah stared at the man taciturnly, not needing words to convey what he thought of Calder’s order. Taking the silent tension in stride, the captain inclined his head and removed himself from the situation.

A wise decision.

As soon as they were alone, Josiah slid the door closed and honed in on Micah instantly. It was the first time they’d been alone since the exorcism. Micah didn’t know why his palms grew clammy or why his pulse sped up to precarious levels. It was almost as if he were more nervous now than when he actually performed the ritual.

“Your tailors believed you would look good in any color, however, the shades of avoidance and self-pity leave you appearing rather unimpressive.”

Avoidance? Self-pity? He was more surprised with the fact that Josiah wanted to discuss the situation. Openly. Privately. That he’d actually searched Micah out and was the first to succumb to the pressing need to _talk._ The prospect immediately caused Micah’s shoulders to stiffen. It was entirely unlike the Josiah he knew.

From the corner of his eye, he observed as the man bypassed the seat opposite of the table. Instead, the dark figure chose to sit directly next to him on the bench. Caged between the corner wall, the table, and Josiah, Micah’s pulse raced. He was nervous, yes. Not out of fear or intimidation, he supposed, but rather morbid and twisted excitement.

“I have nothing to say on the matter,” Micah responded dispassionately. “I have a good idea why you’re walking amongst us.”

There, he’d said it.

Admitted it aloud.

Josiah was an entity who _walked amongst mortals_.

Micah stared ahead stubbornly, his entire person rigid with the fire god’s silent and close observation. He suddenly realized just how much he’d avoided the subject of Agni. In his head, in person, and aloud.

“Do you now?” Josiah inquired with an undertone of unrestrained humor.

“Yes,” Micah said shortly.

“I had anticipated you finding out my identity, but not so soon.”

Anticipated? The man had depended on it.

“Just because I am mortal,” Micah stated bluntly, “does not mean I am _stupid._ Your presence was distinguishable even when you were not physically there. It explains your ability to know things that you shouldn’t. It explains how your fire still affected me in that storage facility. It explains the headaches as you revealed a margin of your aura. The gold pendant.”

“So many indications.”

“So many carefully-lay hints,” Micah countered shrewdly. “Carefully laid out by _you._ You wanted me to know, but I am at a loss as to why.”

“Why indeed.” Josiah seemed delighted. “Perhaps I just wanted someone to know my true identity. Perhaps I wanted to see your pretty lips breathe my name.”

Micah’s ears turned warm. “You will always be Josiah to me.”

Upon Micah’s declaration, the fire god turned quiet. The amusement seemed to escape the train compartment and a steady rise of irritation took its place. Micah continued to gaze forward, realizing he really did find it hard to look at the entity, the _man_.

“You would be lying to yourself. Such self-deception is beneath you.”

“I have one opportunity at life,” Micah started firmly. “You have endless opportunities and consider _life_ insignificant. This is my time, not yours.” Chastising himself for his submission, Micah finally turned and locked eyes with the man next to him. It was hard to glean any sort of emotion from Josiah, though the irritation seemed to have bled way to a certain smug approval. “You will adhere to my image,” Micah stated. “And that will be Josiah.”

Josiah reached for him then, his fingers a near breadth away from cupping the entirety of Micah’s face. The fire god’s rigid hand hovered in place, tense with yearning, wanting, yet steady with unimaginable confidence. “There seems to be fire in you yet,” Josiah remarked with satisfaction. “I had feared they had extinguished you, with how lifeless your eyes have been as of late.”

He discounted the observation. “I have questions for you.”

“I had anticipated it.”

Josiah lowered his hand, his eyes intense as they settled fixatedly on Micah. His gaze seemed brighter than ever, most likely due to the unbridled excitement of Micah knowing his secret and still willing to play along.

“Where is Kai?” Micah demanded, unable to prevent the way his voice trembled with unreserved anger. “The fire burned two victims. You spoke of loose ends. Besides the female tailor, who suspected the man who lived above her shop was a simple history scholar, Kai was the only other person who knew I spoke with the Noir User guru.”

Josiah adopted an expression of deep consideration. “Kai,” he repeated the name with intentional slowness, as if he couldn’t quite remember someone with that name. “Your noble doggy?”

Micah bristled. “Did you kill him?”

Josiah leaned back, settling his shoulders against the cushioned bench. His eyes remained a persistent observer to Micah’s every emotion. “Your fangs come out for him. Charming. You found a replacement for the other one,” he mocked. “Unfortunately, your anger is misplaced, though I always do enjoy basking in your more passionate emotions. The second body in that fire was one of Seaton Edlen’s henchmen who’d come snooping around to find out what you’d been up to.”

“Then where is Kai?”

“It is your job to keep a better eye on your toys, not mine.”

Micah turned away from Josiah’s cruel tone, inhaling deeply to control his anger. He had no reason to trust Josiah. None. Despite Sachiel’s assessment of the Igni king, Micah wasn’t convinced Josiah would voluntarily keep his head above water. However, he couldn’t find a reason why Josiah would lie about Kai.

It served no purpose.

“Out of all your potential questions—”

“The attack on the capital,” Micah interrupted sharply. He felt a bit better knowing Kai was not the second victim in that fire. “I can see them. The gods. The goddesses. Their auras—souls— I can see it. Red-gold, like yours.”

He placed his forearms on the table and closed his eyes. It was hard to forget the sensation of grabbing hold of one of the entities. Nothing but single-minded anticipation had controlled his actions. He’d wanted to consume, to smother. Possess entirely. He still didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand _her_ extreme anger and proclamation that it was not his feelings to feel.

“I imagine,” Micah continued quietly, “Because of the rain and wind, Varuna and Vayu also expressed their displeasure from a distance. What they are displeased about, I don’t understand.” Micah looked to Josiah. “Displeased enough to kill me.”

“Displeased, yes, but entirely out of line,” Josiah said. “You are _my_ mortal.”

The possessiveness did little for him. “Your toy, you mean,” Micah corrected icily.

“Toy? No.” Josiah’s gaze was hypnotic.

“Is there truly a distinction? How so?” Micah sneered. “To a god a mortal must be a mere toy. A play thing.”

Josiah’s hand was a blur. Fingers buried and curled into Micah’s hair, fisting near the roots cruelly enough to cause a spasm of pain through his scalp. “Perhaps if you stop getting into trouble, you will live long enough to find out. Mortals are so fragile, after all.”

Micah narrowed his eyes, hearing a level of egotism only an ancient immortal could achieve. It reminded him of his place, cementing the realization that he was a mere insect to the likes of a god. Insignificant in the grand scheme of things. All things.

Josiah preened, his black lashes falling briefly to veil the scalding amusement residing in his eyes. “Sometimes you are an open book to me, child.” He paused, looking back up at Micah. “You are very important. Do not underestimate your worth to me.”

Micah seethed.

Reaching up, he grabbed hold of Josiah’s wrist. His gloved hands curled around the offending appendage and applied a significant amount of pressure.

“Don’t touch me,” he snarled.

Perhaps Josiah sensed the utmost aversion in his warning, for the hand released his hair obediently. The fire god leaned back, observing him thoughtfully. Did he recognize Micah’s need for distance? His utter lack of interest when it came to physical contact? The sweet and overpowering tension was still there, certainly, but Micah was far more disgusted with it than intrigued at the moment. When there was such a large power imbalance, Micah felt that Josiah’s advances were merely a ploy, something insignificant.

_Insignificant._

Everything to Agni would be insignificant, wouldn’t it?   

“I want to make something clear to you,” Micah started deliberately, feeling a bit foolish for his uncharacteristic bark of denial. “You won’t share why you’re in my uncle’s skin, but I have my assumptions. Until those assumptions are proved otherwise, I don’t, nor will I ever, want a relationship with you. Not like that.”

His eyes cut across to Josiah, steely, firm.

“Go sleep with another mortal. Toy with them.”

Orange eyes narrowed into slits, visibly expressing his displeasure. “What are those assumptions that you have loitering about in that mind of yours?”

“Seducing me is just means to an end.”

“Means to an end,” Josiah repeated with intentional slowness. “Don’t be a fool. I wouldn’t have invested as much time as I had if I just considered you for carnal pleasure.”  

“I didn’t say that,” Micah retorted. “I know I serve some sort of purpose for you. You somehow believe that if you use intimacy and seduction, you’ll have me dependent.”

Josiah parted his lips and smiled. “I would hope you aren’t that easy, Ezra. It would be a great disappointment if you are persuaded with a few touches.” He placed a hand on the table, as if grounding himself. “Nonetheless, I will give you space. For now.”

For now.

The man said it with enough arrogance that it immediately got under Micah’s skin. Josiah acted as if it was a mere phase. A phase that would pass with time. Because surely Micah could not resist him forever. He debated on whether to press the topic or not. In the end, he decided against it, knowing both of them had made up their minds and would not be changing their position anytime soon.

“At first, I believed you were the one to strategize the attack at the capital,” Micah said, continuing their previous discussion. “You once told me that people follow power and that I should display it in a way that draws attention and loyalty.”

“What made you reconsider the idea was mine?”

Micah gazed down at Josiah’s hand, tracing over the long, tapered fingers and the clear, well-manicured fingernails. “Even though I displayed power, the situation at the capital has gone from bad to worse. It’s accelerated the misconceptions and fueled the dislike. There was—”

He trailed off. It was irrational.

Josiah noted his hesitance. Surprisingly, he did not mock Micah. “You’ve entered a realm most mortals are likely to never venture. Nothing you say will be particularly inconceivable.” He paused. “Tell me.”

Micah deliberated the best way to describe what he’d seen. He then wondered why he was going to Josiah with this. He’d been determined to find things out himself, but this particular issue truly puzzled him. It was so far above his head. He didn’t think it was something he could research and rectify. He needed assistance from someone far above his own power caliber.

“Yesterday, when that man confronted me at the cleanup site, I felt uncharacteristically angry.” He tore his gaze from Josiah’s hands and peered closely at his expression. “I’ve been called a _cur_ before, enough times that it has no effect on me. But yesterday, for a brief moment, I wanted to hurt him. To humiliate him just for saying it.”

He opened his fingers and curled them into a fist, clenching and unclenching as he recalled the sharp spasm of fury.

“There was a web, an intricate web in the sky,” Micah murmured softly. “No one seemed to see it but me. It was red-gold, the same color I’ve learned to associate with gods.”

Josiah appeared intent on what Micah had to say.  “A web,” he mused.

“It wasn’t there when I looked for it again.” Micah glanced outside the window, as if he could catch sight of the web in the passing scenery.  Only, the capital was so far away already. The buildings were just tiny blotches against the horizon. “I just remembered its vividness during the confrontation.”

Josiah stiffened out of ire, though it was carefully in check. “You are correct in your assumptions. The gods are honed in on you.”

“Clearly not in a good way.”

“I would find their attention on you, good or bad, displeasing. They would do well to mind their own business.”

Josiah’s eyes flashed crimson only for a fleeting moment, but it was enough to ensnare Micah. He stared, captivated, enthralled, and entirely eager. The other gods became nonexistent as he remembered what it was like to glimpse at the god living within Josiah.

“Why is your presence so malevolent? Evil?” Micah inquired abruptly.

Josiah refocused on Micah with sharp regard. He did not need to say anything to spur Micah into explaining further.

“I saw you in the mirror. In Unda’s vault at the sanctuary region.” Understanding passed over Josiah’s features. “You were…” Micah trailed off for a moment, grappling with an appropriate description. Back then, when he’d looked at the reflection, it had felt as if he’d looked horror in the eyes “Immoral. Like humans typically associate with daemons. Gods, I’d thought, were meant to signify goodness.”

Something seemed to entertain the man greatly, most likely Micah’s decision to use the word _goodness_. “What you saw was a fraction of my true self. Mortals cannot possibly comprehend what they are seeing, gods and daemons alike,” Josiah started. “On a subconscious level, they recognize a natural predator with unimaginable power. Our auras signal danger, spurring a flight response in mortals.” He paused. “I caution you. Just because an entity is a god does not mean he is ‘good’. Do not fall into the stereotypical assumptions mortals have of us.”

The idea that mortals recognized a threat without even knowing what stood before them was fascinating. A true example of a natural predator and prey dynamic. Moreover, Josiah’s warning intrigued him. He’d known gods were not essence of goodness. However, the man’s tone indicated gods could emit darkness just as well as daemons.

If Agni’s self was truly that dark…

“You appear far keener on learning about the technicality of gods rather than even considering the idea of being intimidated,” Josiah observed. There was something abnormal in his tone, a sort of satisfied approval and smug victory.

Micah overlooked it.

“I never truly worshipped them— _you,_ ” he corrected smugly. “I never entertained the idea of groveling at the feet of a god. I had no reason to.”

“Mortals always have reason to worship.”

“ _Igni_ people worship you,” Micah said, stubbornly persistent on avoiding speaking the entity’s real name. “They worship you because you’ve gifted many of them with their fire Element. They worship you because they fear you. They fear death. Mortality. They hope you and the illusion of your presence can balm the ambiguity and isolation it brings.”

“And you don’t?” Josiah appeared genuinely curious. “Fear mortality?”

“It unsettles me,” he admitted. “But it’s unavoidable.”

“A mortal unafraid of death,” the man pondered. “Either you are lying or you truly are a rare creature. Even gods would fear death when it greeted them. As it is, we live too long to give death the caution it rightfully deserves. I suggest you tread just as lightly.”

Micah frowned, hearing Josiah’s warning, but not understanding why. “Can gods die?”

“Not in the same sense as mortals, no.”

“What is death like for a mortal?” Micah asked.

Josiah considered him apathetically. “I would rather you remain oblivious about death rather than embrace the notion.”

“Embracing the notion makes it sound as if it’s actually better than being alive,” Micah perceived. “I imagine death is quite peaceful and warm.”

Something passed behind Josiah’s eyes upon Micah’s deduction. “Warm and peaceful? Yes, I suppose you’ve come close enough to death’s embrace that you would glean that particular belief. I consider it monotony. Mind-numbing.”

“But you aren’t a mortal. You can’t accurately describe what the afterlife is like for us. For you, our everyday lives are _mind-numbing_.”

“Yet, I believe I know _you_ well enough to know you’d find the afterlife unexciting.”

Josiah’s descriptions and hints were sporadic and vague. Micah had a sense that it was deliberate. The entity wanted Micah to fear death, to stay away from it at all costs. If Micah was dead, it spoiled the man’s plans. Whatever those may be. Thinking about death and souls reminded him of the woman—the goddess—with the ability to freeze time and entrap his attention. She’d also had the ability to spur emotions inside him that were not ‘his to feel’.

It was enough to raise his suspicions that he was—

“Am I a reincarnated soul?” Micah asked tersely, fearing the answer. “Or possessed?”

Whatever he’d expected Josiah to convey, it certainly wasn’t wicked humor. The man clenched his teeth in a semblance of a grin, but it came out as a feral leer. “I can assure you, child, with utmost certainty, you are not possessed and you are very much a newborn soul. My fire touched you at conception.”

Micah’s face twisted. “It makes it sound as if you are my father.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he grasped the utmost truth behind them.

Agni had raised him, he realized with sinking horror.

From a distance, Agni molded Micah into who he was, and who he would be, as the entity surely was not finished yet. The man even admitted as much to Calder. He said he didn’t want Micah spoiled, so he manipulated Ember to his liking and allowed her to run off with a child-Ezra. He’d never been far during his childhood, either. He’d moved behind the scenes and exposed Micah to the hardships of life.

Always behind the scenes, always careful to avoid being seen as a paternal figure. Certainly carrying no warm, nurturing feelings with him, but rather evoking the enraged desire to impress and to challenge.

Micah mulled the realization over in his mind with frenzied rapidity. He wondered if Agni ever touched another mortal with similar intimacy. Had the god swaddled an infant – a newborn soul— with his fire and willed it to turn out to his liking?

But _why_ would he?

He was suddenly very pleased his mother never encouraged him to worship the god. If he’d grown with the sense to idolize this entity, he would surely feel very intimidated and acquiescent at this very moment. As such, his childhood consisted of bitter resentment towards the fire god. Bitterness and dislike.

Was that also Agni’s intention?

Micah’s blood turned cold with realization. Yes. It probably was his doing. If Micah had grown to worship and revere Agni, their dynamic would have been entirely different. Lopsided. Their relationship would not be pull and push, but rather an underwhelming and unimpressive rapport with Micah being entirely submissive.

Agni’s imprints and echoes consumed all aspects of Micah’s life. Like that of a crystal glass littered with fingerprints. The entity tarnished and tainted so much of his existence, so often, Micah wondered what, in his life, was his own doing. Josiah’s possessiveness, while unappreciated, suddenly seemed… justifiable.  

Micah was his. His project. In Agni’s words, _his mortal._

“My fire is used in all aspects of life,” Josiah said, unaware of Micah’s racing mind. “Mortals use it in celebratory rites and transitional stages. My element creates life and it begins the transition of the afterlife.”

Micah stared, unable to do much of anything else as the realization sat on his conscience with grim heaviness. If Josiah were not blocking his exit, he would have left the conversation without another word. If he confronted the man about his influence in his life, about his influence on _Ember,_ he’d get an amused stare and a condescending reprimand.

It was not something he imagined Josiah to be forthcoming about.

Fortunately, he stayed collected and focused. He knew his speculations were true. He knew, above all else, that Agni planned every detail of his childhood with careful diligence. Was he upset? Perhaps a bit, but he’d known long ago Josiah was responsible for a great deal of things during his youth. This just cemented it.

It also unsettled him with the implications of _Agni_ taking such an interest.

“If I am not a reincarnated soul, then why are the gods after me?”

“I believe that was already answered for you.”

That gave Micah pause. The answer came to him quickly and he pondered for a moment on the best way to proceed. Josiah seemed approachable currently, willing to divulge most answers. However, Micah would be a fool if he thought Josiah wasn’t still calculating his responses. If there was one thing Josiah excelled at, it was answering with ambiguity.

“Because I summoned something that was a daemon but claims he is not a daemon,” Micah responded tightly.

“You summoned a god eater,” Josiah replied pleasantly.

Micah let the words wash over him. Instead of trepidation, the very _idea_ there was something known as a _god eater_ instantly excited him. Excited him to no end.

“Oh?” he inquired breathlessly.

_Tell me more._

Josiah placed his chin upon his palm and surveyed Micah lazily. “I believe this is a conversation for another time, but like gods, there are other levels of daemons. God eaters, or Syphons, are the highest form of daemon. Unlike gods, who cannot truly kill other gods, Syphons possess the ability to destroy gods. They were defeated and put to rest centuries ago.”  

_Agni,_ Micah cursed, feeling his pulse hammer with excitement. “And how do you explain my ability to raise one from _slumber_?”

“A god could summon a Syphon from slumber, though they would never do so. Gods fear their abilities, though most god eaters would be extremely weak at this point of time. You, specifically, are a demigod, hence your ability to awaken one.”

Upon Josiah’s admittance, Micah’s mind spun. “You’re lying.”

The man chuckled sinisterly. “With my presence smothering you, quite literally cocooning you, you appear to be half-god, half-mortal in the eyes of many creatures. Daemons and gods alike.”

“You’ve become a part of me.”

“In a sense,” Josiah said agreeably. Something licentious lightened his eyes to a vibrant, alluring orange. It then dimmed a moment later and the intensity was gone. “Your blood will strengthen god eaters for a time, yet because you are not truly a deity, the visage of strength won’t last long. One god eater will not wreak havoc amongst the gods, especially if he uses your blood. You need not worry.”

“Clearly the other gods do worry.”

“They are fools who have nothing better to do with their time. They are ignorant and they are sheep.” The scorn in Josiah’s tone was apparent. “They are better off tracking the loose god eater than targeting the mortal who unknowingly summoned it.”

“And the god who is causing pandemonium at the capital? The web?”

“From your descriptions, it sounds like Dushyanta, the god of enmity, the destroyer of evil.”  

Enmity. It made sense. The tense atmosphere of the capital. The surprising amount of demonstrated animosity. The destroyer of evil, however, made Micah conflicted. Was it because he summoned a god eater unknowingly? The god, Dushyanta, clearly did not want to hear the full truth of what happened that day, having no qualms of targeting Micah without all the facts.

He wondered at the extent of Dushyanta’s reach. His powers. When Micah was not in the capital, would the god’s destruction continue? The animosity seemed focused around him, perhaps it dulled without his proximity to the web.

Was it wrong of Micah to want to see Josiah pitted against another god? The very notion of Josiah displaying his full powers was nothing short of arousing.

“Don’t worry about him,” Josiah said. “I will deal with him when we return to the capital.”

Something told Micah that Josiah’s request had more to do with the fact that he did not want to share Micah’s attentions with another god. Agni wanted his sole focus. Having it already divided between other mortals and himself was already inconvenient. Throwing in another god was unacceptable.

“Can I watch?”

Micah’s request noticeably stilled Josiah.

The request even made Micah pause, who then wondered when he’d become a voyeur. His doubts abruptly quelled as he witnessed Josiah’s reaction to his words. Something eccentrically dark and twisted stirred within the god’s eyes. Josiah did little to conceal how the request affected him and Micah had the impression of obsessive fascination exuding from the other man.

“You want to watch me abolish a god, _Micah_?”

Josiah rarely called him by his chosen name. As such, when the man spoke it, it seemed far more intimate and familiar. Micah felt foolish for feeling his pulse quicken and his excitement grow. He matched Josiah’s dark smile with one of his own.

“I’d like to.”

A heady impression of desire twisted from the man’s aura. “I watched you control and intimidate a group of gods during the attack at the capital,” Josiah breathed lustfully. “You don’t realize how much that pleased me.”

Pleased.

Aroused.

“I was told gods are powered down substantially in this realm.”

“Even so,” the man started in rebuke, “you were intoxicating. A mere mortal forcing several gods to flee from their human vessels. It’s no wonder Dushyanta decided to try a more subtle approach at destroying you.”

_Agni—_

No, Micah needed a new curse word.

He stared at Josiah, realizing how much he’d missed interacting with the man. Kai, Sachiel, and the rest his team were agreeable enough, but Josiah roused something within Micah. Something dark, primitive, and entirely pleasing. He felt the power distinction easily enough, yet he couldn’t help but to feel as if Josiah— _Agni—_ was a kindred spirit, someone who related to him, someone who knew him intimately.

Someone who could pluck out Micah’s darkness and nurture it until it cultivated.

Feeling so high, Micah overlooked his earlier request for distance. His attention dropped to Josiah’s mouth, forever parted into a smug smirk. He leaned forward, breathing in the man’s heat-like scent before pressing their lips together.

Josiah quickly entrapped Micah’s face and tilted his head back to deepen the kiss.

With his heart beating wildly, Micah placed his hands on Josiah’s shoulders and pushed, forcing the man backward. Surprisingly, Josiah allowed the action, resting his back against the bench. His eager hands then landed on Micah’s hips, pulling him on top his lap.

Feeling vindictive, Micah hovered.

A sense of control—whether justified or not—caused his hands to curl around Josiah’s throat. Exerting his dominance. Forcing Josiah’s submission. A debauched hiss of pleasure escaped Josiah’s lips as he gazed appreciatively up at Micah. His hands tightened and decided to settle around Micah’s waist, compelling the younger man to grind on top of him.

Their hardening groins caused a sweet, irresistible friction.

“Yes,” Agni hissed huskily.

Micah preened, but then faltered when he realized just how much he admired this twisted, dark sensuality. The fact that both men felt aroused over questionable subject matter, and later spurred further by physical acts of abrasive, physical dominance, rattled Micah. He blinked, staring down at his hands squeezing Josiah’s throat.

The dark, tantalizing fog lifted and he grew fretful when he realized just how much he enjoyed it.

What was he doing? After he explicitly warned Agni to give him distance?

He scrambled up and nearly tripped over the table leg in his haste to exit the compartment. As much as he wished for it, he knew Josiah had not manipulated him in any way to close the distance.

That was all Micah’s doing.

Agni’s laughter followed him out of the compartment and down the hall.

 

*** * * ***

 

Kai slouched against the wall, his eyes focused ahead, but not truly seeing anything.

His stomach twisted in hunger and his throat itched irritably.

He couldn’t believe it.

Deliberately, he rubbed his head back and forth against the wall, not stopping until the stone nearly broke his skin apart and drew blood. Hissing between clenched teeth, Kai squinted up at the bright, oppressive sun. Sweat slid down his temple and descended his cheek, pooling in the junction between his collarbone and neck.

He couldn’t _believe_ it.

How many days had passed? Three? A sense of extreme desperation washed through him. He noticed a few glances lingering in his direction, more so out of curiosity as opposed to pity or concern. After all, his fair skin stuck out noticeably amongst the crowds of dark-haired and tanned individuals. He’d be an enigma. Not something worth assisting.

They didn’t even have enough resources to assist the homeless children here, why would they assist a noble?

Kai had been dropped in the middle of the outskirt regions. Amid the heavily populated Igni communities.

Kai laughed—gurgled—in wary resentment.

He’d thought his father would proceed with a delicate and subtle hand. Something political and underhanded. Seaton was infamous for those tactics, after all. His father rarely ever displayed blatant acts of dominance and control, acts like _this._ It was uncharacteristic of him. Kai didn’t understand what spurred his father to do this.

The drug they’d used must have knocked Kai out for several days, for when he woke, he was in the southern regions, days away from the capital. As he had gradually roused from his unconsciousness, he noticed the footsteps around him no longer struck paved sidewalks and cobblestones, but rather sand and hard dirt. The air was hot, the sun across his face relentless. The humidity made him sweat profusely.

They’d disposed him on the streets like trash.

The air seemed hotter now than when he and Egan went on their excursion between terms. Kai suspected he was in Region 20, a region Micah profusely said he hadn’t wanted to visit unless absolutely necessary. The boy hadn’t said much about the place he grew up, but Kai was willing to bet the region was far from welcoming. Region 10’s furthest villages were deplorable. He couldn’t imagine something settled further south to be especially hospitable.

Especially toward other races and the homeless.

There were so many homeless here. He was just one of several.  

His attention consistently went back to the children. While the living conditions were appalling, there still seemed like too many. Far too many children without parents. Too many children with small, dirty faces and large bellies. Too many children without shoes.

Leaning against the building, he watched the children chase each other through the bazaar. Despite their impressive speed, they were victorious in avoiding any collisions with passing adults.

He stared, distractedly wondering if Micah was like that as a child. Rambunctious. Full of energy despite his surroundings.

What did Kai’s father and the other councilmembers hope to accomplish by dropping him here in Region 20? That he’d learn to hate the Igni people? That he’d somehow realize how fortunate he was to live under his father’s smothering command?

Egan would find him. Sachiel would find him.

But would they find him before he starved to death? Before one of the several sketchy men attacked him and he was forced to use his water Element? Kai caught the eyes of a leering man. Gold eyes ran the length of him before simpering and disappearing into the crowd. Far too exhausted to react, or care, Kai turned his attention towards an apple merchant.

The large, brute-like man had his back turned and a child sprinted past, snagging a piece of fruit without further notice.

Said child continued sprinting, well aware of the other children chasing after him.

Kai’s stomach growled.

Cupping his knees, he stood up slowly, bracing his hand against the wall as a wave a dizziness washed over him. Self-consciously, he tugged on his tunic, recognizing the expensive fabric, while dirty and wrinkled, would draw just as much attention as his pale hair.

Nonetheless, he needed food.

Night would fall shortly and he needed his strength. His Element would not be of much use if he were dead on his feet.

Pushing off from the wall, Kai shuffled into the throng of Igni people, hoping the sea of black-clad natives would somehow camouflage him from unwanted attention. He moved with them, ignoring the scrutiny of those in his proximity. As he approached the apple vendor, he noticed the merchant still had his back turned.

Averting his eyes and attention forward, Kai reached over and grabbed a piece of fruit from the cart. His fingers curled around the waxy skin, never realizing how much he craved the ordinary and mundane taste of apple.

Only, a strong, unrelenting hand grabbed his wrist.

Kai gasped as the hand abruptly tugged him away from his momentum. He stumbled on his feet, knocking into men and women on his way to the vendor. His cheeks burned with shame as the merchant tugged him callously back to the spot he’d grabbed the piece of fruit. People stared and simply passed him by, clearly accustomed to the act of stealing and subsequent retribution.

The merchant sneered at him, disgusted, angry. “I allow innocent children to steal from me, but not a shameful and greedy foreigner.”

Kai’s fingers opened up around the fruit and it dropped to the ground with a hollow and disheartening _thud_. The merchant snarled and tightened his hold on Kai’s bony wrist.

“I don’t know how they prosecute thieves from your region, boy, but out here, an eye for an eye. Your wandering fingers will never reach for unpaid merchandise again.”

“Please,” Kai whispered, resorting to begging as he realized the man’s intentions. “I am so hungry. I don’t—”

“We’re all hungry here, boy. I don’t care.”

The merchant tugged him closer as he reached for the hatchet hanging from his belt. Kai panicked, prepared to resort to hand-to-hand combat or his Element. Only, the sound of coins slapped loudly against the counter, immediately defusing the tension.

“Let him go, Abiz,” a woman ordered firmly. Her Igni accent was very thick and fluent, just as it was firm. “He is just a child.”

“Just a child? He is a full-grown adult capable of his actions.”

“Even so,” she started, “I will pay double for what he took. Let him go.”

Kai turned his head, staring at the woman’s profile. She levelled the merchant with an air of indifference and boldness. Her slim shoulders were proud, her upturned chin even prouder. Wearing the typical dark robes of the Igni people, she decided against wearing the shemagh and let her hair fall down her back with loose, wild waves.

She was _beautiful_.

“You are too kind,” the merchant scolded, his gentle tone clearly indicated familiarity with this woman. “He doesn’t deserve it.”

“He also doesn’t deserve the loss of limb for a mere apple that will most likely rot by tomorrow.”

The merchant released Kai’s wrist with disgust and shoved him away. “Fine.”

Kai stumbled away, his pulse slowing as he watched the merchant take possession of the coins with greedy, shaking fingers. The woman tutted with disproval and bent down low to retrieve the fallen apple. Before handing it to Kai, she rubbed the apple’s skin across her robes, clearing it from dirt before turning to face him fully.

He faltered for just a moment, staring blatantly at the burned and disfigured flesh across one side of her face. Her one eye was brilliant amber, the other eye was milky, dead, and unfocused. An Igni woman disfigured by a fire Elemental.

How unusual.

She smiled, as if recognizing Kai’s shocked observation for morbid curiosity. “Here.”

Kai looked down at the offered fruit. Before he took it, he bowed low at the waist with gratitude.

“None of that,” she protested softly, her voice musical and hypnotic. “I have seen this far too many times living in Region 20.” She nudged the apple closer to him, her fingernails spotless and immaculately groomed. “Please take it.”

Remaining speechless, Kai plucked it from her fingers and cradled it close to his chest. He licked his lips, wanting to thank her profusely, but she was already walking away.

Only, she stopped.

Almost as if she were having an internal debate, she gradually turned back around and observed the motionless Kai. Her features were delicate, almost _aristocratic._ Looking at her, Kai couldn’t help but to feel something tug at his awareness. There was something vaguely familiar about her. Something just licked at the back of his mind.

“Are you from the capital?” she inquired.

He tore his gaze from her in order to run an assessing eye down his fitted trousers and perfectly tailored blouse. Both articles of clothing were extraordinary and expensive. Slowly, he looked back up at her and inclined his head.

He finally found his voice. “What gave it away?”

She offered a tight smile at his cynicism, her lips straining unnaturally against the disfigured flesh on the left side of her face. “I wouldn’t feel right leaving you out here alone. You don’t appear to be here willingly.”

“That would be the case, yes.”

“Region 20 is not a place to wander around naïve and vulnerable. Especially a foreigner from the capital.” She took a step closer. “Come back with me and we can figure out a way to move forward and get you back where you came from, yes?”

He flinched, noticing her bare fingers. No ring. No husband.

“It would be improper, my lady.” It felt silly coming from his mouth, considering his tatty, dirty clothes and the way he clutched the apple possessively to his chest like a starved man.

Raw amusement crossed her features at his renunciation. “I haven’t been treated as a lady for several years.” She looked toward the merchant, who feigned disinterest. “My intentions are not entirely selfless. There are things I’d like to know about the capital.”

She did not explain further.

Instead, there was an exaggerated length of time before anyone spoke.

Kai deliberated her. The ghost of familiarity tugged at him, intriguing him with relentless persistence. Though he did not trust her, she was his best chance of getting out of Region 20. He was delusional if he thought he could successfully live on the streets for days without money, without weapons, and without shelter. He had his water Element, yes, but it probably wasn’t the best weapon to use against a whole village of bitter, war-scarred Igni citizens.

He took a step closer to her.

And then another.

“My name is Ember.”

It was a very common name amongst Igni females.

And yet…

“Kai,” he introduced himself carefully. “I cannot thank you enough, Ember.”

“No need. Let’s get you cleaned up, Kai.” Ember turned her shoulder and led him through the crowds with a sense of familiarity. “I think my son may have a few things you could wear. Though he is a bit smaller than you, at least he has dark clothing to help you blend in a bit more.” 

He followed her, bypassing a burned down tavern. “Is your son at home?”

“I’m afraid not.” Ember glanced over her shoulder, noticing Kai’s intentional distance. She smiled. “I am not going to hurt you, child. I swear to Agni.”

Considering how religious and loyal the Igni people were to their god, Agni, Kai felt his tension lessen. He missed the vindictive gleam in Ember’s eye, far too distracted with the notion of escaping the hot, relentless sun.

 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**13\. Chapter Thirteen**

 

The hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end.

Micah’s eyes narrowed out the window, submitting to the unnerving sensation and wondering at the cause. Just down the train’s corridor, Josiah interacted with a few military men. Though they were unnaturally smitten with the Igni king, Josiah wasn’t doing anything to warrant Micah’s current feelings of unease and disquiet. Which was actually quite astounding in itself.

He rotated on the bench, throwing an arm across the back of the bench and facing Josiah. Alternating between admiring the passing scenery and watching Josiah, he pondered on the restlessness in the air. It felt as if something shifted, as if things were revolving the wrong direction.

“I’ve been told you have trouble conjuring your Element.”

His unease certainly wasn’t attributed to Calder’s royal guard who decided to saddle up next to Micah on the cushioned bench. He offered the captain a veiled look of disinterest. “It’s just fine,” he replied coldly.

The captain offered a low sigh. “Look. Your father requested I speak to you about it.”

“I don’t see how Calder would know anything on the matter.”

Besides salivating over Micah’s ability to conjure ice as an Element, Calder hadn’t spoken much on the topic. Calder hadn’t spoke about much of anything, really. However, he’d certainly felt comfortable enough sending Micah and Josiah on a political expedition with the bodies of two fallen earth Elementals and three air Elementals in tow.

“You’re addicted to adrenaline, like I am.”

Micah slowly turned his attention away from the passing scenery and focused on the man sitting beside him.  

Every Elemental had noble blood. History often glorified Elementals to the point of equal standing as royalty. Nowadays, being an Elemental wasn’t nearly as rare, wasn’t nearly as overvalued. It did show prestige, however, and aristocracy. Observing Calder’s royal guard, Micah identified all traits of a nobleman. The stiff shoulders, the refined air, and the pointed and smart features. With his hair pulled up high in a standard warrior’s ponytail, however, his features took on a fiercer, almost roguish countenance.

Unlike most of the noble Unda men, which saw an array of pretty blues, the captain’s eyes were dark navy, nearly black.

A unique and pleasing change.

“As you can imagine, Elementals have run in my family for generations. Unlike my siblings, however, I showed no signs of being an Elemental as a child. Much like yourself. It shamed my relatives. My siblings also criticized me and my peers, who were proud aristocrats and Elementals, ostracized me.”

Micah kept his scrutiny cold and informal. “And what changed?”

“The war,” the captain said with a small grin.

“You look a bit too young to have enlisted.”

“Indeed, I was only twelve-years-old at the time. But war to a young boy is a tantalizing and unrealistic adventure. I snuck near the boundary line to catch a glimpse of battle with some other children _._ Unfortunately, we encountered far more action than anticipated.”

Micah could only surmise the rest. “You were in the crosshairs.”

“I was. Moreover, I discovered I had more potential with Elemental magic than predicted.” The captain inclined his head. “I was able to defend myself and the others out of sheer and frantic desperation. Afterward, I wasn’t able to conjure my Element again for another seven years when I was on a mission for Concordia Academy.” 

“Adrenaline,” Micah started, “is a powerful accelerator.”

“Addictive,” the man added. “Regrettably, as an emotional Elemental, conjuring your Element will prove difficult when there is no threat in the vicinity.”

Micah lifted a brow. “Why should I concern myself over that fact if it comes readily in battle?”

“Because it is untrained and temperamental. It will wear you down quicker, making you a liability in battle.”

He wasn’t wrong. Micah recalled the sheer exhaustion after the battle at the capital. While his Element was relatively obedient and easy to maneuver during the confrontation, he’d experienced the backlash of a power drain. He supposed, if the battle had lasted any longer, he wouldn’t have stood a chance. He would have collapsed with exhaustion, most likely too weak to even lift his sword.

“And how do you purpose fixing this liability?”

The man’s lips twitched. “Meditation. People like you and I strive for battle. It would do you some good to reflect. Now that you know you have your Element, try to find it and identify with it. Don’t try so hard to conjure and control it.”

He made it sound as elusive as catching smoke with groping fingers. Micah was hardly impressed with the words, but he reluctantly recognized the benefits of the suggestion. He just didn’t know how much patience he had to meditate. Typically, he tried to avoid dwelling in his mind for extended periods of time.

Darkness suddenly blanketed the entire train.

Stiffening at the familiar sensation of being underground, and recognizing the claustrophobia taking effect, Micah curled his hand around the armrest and squeezed.

They’d entered the Terra Kingdom.  

Lightness returned as they exited the tunnel and the surrounding greenery nearly blinded him with the sheer vibrancy. Going through the first tunnel seemed to spur everyone into motion. From Micah’s position, he watched as the military men scrambled back and forth down the corridor, throwing on uniforms and gathering weapons. Josiah prowled toward Micah’s position, as did the rest of Calder’s personal guard.

Micah turned his attention back to Calder’s captain, watching as the man stood.

“Your name, captain?” he inquired.

While he wasn’t particularly pleased with the man’s smothering proximity, he knew there was a chance he’d be seeing this man indefinitely. Like Micah, the man wasn’t too fond of him either. He could see it in his eyes. In his flickering aura. Similar to all the Unda nobles, the captain viewed Micah as a threat to their social class and prestige. Micah understood the Unda people spent generations upon generations building such a high-functioning hierarchy. They would not see it destroyed by the Igni people.

“Conway Edlen, Your Highness.” For good measure, the captain bowed stiffly, much to the amusement of Micah.

“Related to Kai?”

“Distantly. I come from the low branch of the Edlen family tree.”

Micah’s lashes lowered as he considered the man. He hardly doubted there was a _low branch_ to the Edlen family. Edlen blood was just as old as the crown and were often considered the royalty of noblemen.

Before Micah could inquire further, Conway melted into the background as Josiah and the other royal guards neared. All the guards were wearing muted and earthy tones, an effort to blend in as companions or advisors to the crown rather than elite guards. Micah himself wore navy blue and gold, an attempt to blend in with the Terra Kingdom, but also subtly displaying his status as royalty through the gold interlaced through the material. Or so he was told by Ara.

“Are you prepared?”

“Not entirely,” Micah responded listlessly. “I don’t understand Calder’s angle.”

“You are overthinking it. Calder is a simple man. You are not.”

They entered another tunnel, this one longer and darker than the first. It was the tunnel he and his team used last term when they came to extract items from Unda’s vault. Just below them was the sanctuary village, however, the train did not stop but rather sped past. They were traveling further west, nearer to Terra’s capital.

Conscious of the several ears, Micah responded vaguely. “Considering we’re also delivering two of the men who attacked the capital, I’d say it’s a flex of muscle.”

“That is merely one of his intentions. You are to be crowned quickly. It is Unda tradition for the future monarchs to introduce themselves to their neighboring kingdoms. As such, Calder’s distance is also intentional.”

Micah and Josiah traded looks. It was unspoken, but Micah quickly understood the man’s meaning. Calder was testing him. It seemed rather unfair to test Micah on something he was not entirely prepped for, but he wasn’t a complete novice of the art of politics either. Perhaps Josiah informed Calder of this earlier and his father wanted to observe from a distance and see what he had to work with in terms of his future heir. It was almost as if Calder were throwing him off balance, anticipating whether Micah would land on his feet or not.

Calder was not here personally, but he had eyes _everywhere._

“Chief Heres and his delegators proudly proclaim that Noir Users have not touched their kingdom,” Josiah continued, drawing their discussion to something more suitable for Calder’s guards to overhear. “We have proof otherwise.”

Except the Noir Users did not attack the capital. Gods and goddesses had.

Mortals could not accept such information, nor should they. The only solution was to continue on the ruse. Despite his misgivings about accusing the Noir Users for a crime they hadn’t committed, Micah believed all the vessels _had been_ Noir Users. There was a possibility the Magi knew exactly what they agreed upon during the possession. After all, gods needed permission to possess a vessel, least they wanted a strong marionette.  

“Delegators serve Chief Heres, and as you know from your studies last term, they create an egalitarian government. The two men we are bringing back to Chief Heres were previous delegators. He’d be most interested in finding out where they’ve been these past several years.”  

Micah inhaled slowly. “I believe you will be taking the lead on this?”

Indeed, Josiah was not wearing his usual military uniform, but rather light brown trousers—a Terra color— and a fitted navy coat. It was odd to see him in anything other than his general uniform, a title he proudly displayed at the capital. And rightfully so, Micah supposed.

“For the most part, yes,” Josiah responded. “You must observe to stand on your own.”

Micah’s eyes sharpened defensively. “That will always be my intention.”

The smile Josiah offered was both sly and appreciative. “Learn and observe quickly, child, for standing on your own will be vital.”

The train came to a screeching halt.

Micah and Josiah maintained eye contact, one smug, the other determined.

“There will be three guards behind you, Your Highness,” Conway injected fearlessly between the two. “You will not go off without at least one guard with you. You are not to reach for your weapon unless absolutely necessary.”

“We are not staying long, we have a schedule to maintain,” Josiah informed Micah. “It will take longer to reach the Eurus Empire.”

The train doors opened and Micah experienced a rush of disorientation as the two men continued to give him orders and instructions. Phasing them out, he stood from his seat and ran a hand down his tailored attire, marveling at the smooth fabric and the perfect fit. Fortunately, the tailors heeded Josiah’s orders about comfort and the lack of lace. He could imagine battling in them. The boots, too, were comfortable.

“Your Highness?”

Micah hummed in question, turning his gaze on Conway _Edlen_.

Calder’s guard narrowed his eyes. “Did you hear my instruction?”

Smiling innocently, Micah slowly secured his gloves. “I am confident you will do your job marvelously, Captain Edlen.” Turning away from Conway’s obvious irritation, he motioned toward the door. “Shall we?”

Josiah moved past him, using it as an excuse to run his hand casually down Micah’s shoulders. Fingers pressed against the small of his back before ushering him forward. If the guards did not move into position at his back, Micah would have said something scathing. As it was, he kept his tongue and allowed Josiah to lead him from the train.

Outside on the platform, a familiar-looking man bowed low.

“King Josiah.”

Micah was aware of Conway stiffening behind him at the scandalous title. While it was an insult to Calder and his loyal allies, Barth’s address to Josiah was understandable. Most kingdoms could not grasp the fragility of the situation between Unda and Igni. Unda may have won the war, but Calder wanted to maintain equilibrium by merging the two cultures. As such, he offered Josiah a position of power.

The Terra Kingdom would recognize Calder as the supreme leader. However, they would struggle to address Josiah by anything other than a title of utmost respect.

The man in drab, ordinary robes looked to Micah and bowed lower. “Prince Ezra,” he greeted cordially. “Welcome.”

“Delegator Barth,” Micah received. Over the man’s shoulder, four other men bowed simultaneously. “It’s a pleasure seeing both you and the Terra Kingdom again.”

As Barth straightened, his unique, honey-brown eyes surveyed Micah.

There was no doubt in Micah’s mind that Barth was presently recollecting their last encounter together. At the time, Micah had been a mere cadet, yet he knew Barth had remembered him. Under the sanctuary city, in the vaults, Barth had ordered Josiah to leave and that they were never welcome back again. As Calder previously mentioned, Barth had no authority to ban Concordia royalty from the sanctuary zone, not unless he wanted to start a war.

Micah imagined, at the time, Barth had been frightened over the attack. Over the loss of his men. Fear led to words uncensored.

“Unfortunately, I understand this visit is also not under the best circumstances,” Barth said.

The man’s attention then landed just beyond Micah’s shoulder. Micah did not have to turn around to know the members of Concordia’s military were unloading two caskets. They thumped one casket on the ground, loud enough to cause a few Terra guards behind Barth to flinch resentfully.

“The circumstances surrounding our arrival may be unpleasant, but that does not mean our visit has to be shroud in the same light, Delegator Barth,” Micah responded diplomatically, instantly earning Conway's surprised regard.

Josiah preened.

Another loud _thump_ sounded from behind and Micah slowly turned, catching the eyes of the men who handled the caskets.

His expression was enough to still them. “ _Careful_ ,” Micah warned.

“You are correct, Prince Ezra,” Barth agreed, seeming to adopt a warmer countenance. “If I remember correctly, you were quite taken with the sanctuary village during your last visit. I am eager to show you the capital today. I believe you will be quite impressed.” Moving sideways, the delegator ushered Micah forward.

Leaving the train behind, the party crossed the sprawling and barren meadows. Like the majority of the Terra Kingdom, above ground appeared desolate.

Empty.

The few buildings that were present were dilapidated and in shambles. From Micah’s position, he counted only five structures buried within the tall grasses. In the distance, trees, dark in emerald, dotted the perimeter of the expansive meadow. Surprisingly, the palace he’d spied last term, the only building to remain fully erect above ground, was still a great distance away. Too far to walk, especially with a team of military soldiers carrying two caskets of dead weight.

“We will have to travel underground from here,” Delegator Barth informed, perhaps reading Micah’s observation. “Railroads do not go near the capital.”

“A fail safe,” Micah approved. “The Terra Kingdom is known for their impenetrable defenses. To someone who knows nothing about your kingdom, they would be vulnerable above ground and they’d be fools to venture beneath.”

Barth seemed tickled by Micah’s statement.  “We weren’t always impenetrable,” he said. “We were vulnerable from Elementals who would drown us or trap us with fire. Over the years, however, we’ve designed countermeasures. One downside of our persistence to live underground, however, is our lack of modern day technology.” 

“A small sacrifice, I believe, in order to be the most secured kingdom.”

“Others would not agree,” Barth informed tightly. “There are radicals we must constantly contain.”

Micah tried his best not to scoff, though Barth would detect a semblance of amusement in his tone. “Radicals are in every kingdom, Delegator. There is always someone unhappy over governing bodies and will, in turn, fuel others to feel the same.”

Barth appraised Micah thoughtfully. “Does Concordia have their own set of radicals at the capital?”

“Nothing that cannot be contained.”

He thought of the riots he’d witnessed and the racial slurs. So far, the upheaval in the capital was a mere nuisance. However, with Josiah’s claim that a god of enmity was responsible for said nuisances, Micah wondered if things would get worse. All because he had raised a _god eater_ from slumber _._ Unintentionally.

“Has King Calder set a date for your coronation?”  

Stopping before a dilapidated outbuilding, Micah offered Barth his undivided attention. A simple _no_ would not suffice, and it would draw unnecessary speculation that Calder or Micah were not prepared to make the next move. While that was partially true on Micah’s behalf, he knew taking the crown was inevitable. Sachiel, Kai, and Josiah set him straight on his responsibilities.

_Self-pity does not suit you._

“Both my father and I believe it is best to make a slow transition,” Micah responded levelly. “The Unda people are still growing accustomed to my reappearance at the capital. For years, they anticipated Ladon would be the next king.”

Barth adopted a peculiar expression, one of contemplation and misgiving. “You were relocated as a child for your own protection. Even though you were very young, you were still receiving threats on your life.”

“That is correct.”

His _relocation_ was the story Calder conceived for the sake of the public who questioned Micah’s whereabouts as a child. Calder claimed the attack was real and they—he and Josiah— both believed it was best to keep Ezra’s whereabouts a secret under the illusion of an abduction. When Ezra came of age, he would return to the capital and reclaim his position in court.

The story certainly pacified several skeptical individuals.

As for Ember, Calder remained rather vague about any mention of her. He claimed Ember had raised Ezra until a short time ago when she’d passed from an untreatable health condition. A rather harsh fate for his mother, Micah mused, though it did not surprise him. Ember betrayed the king and took away his heir. Calder would not welcome her back to the capital.

Ever.

There was no talk about funeral services, but Micah believed Calder would at least hold some sort of service for Ember when things settled down. He had to keep up pretenses, after all.

It did not surprise Micah that the story of his supposed childhood already reached the other kingdoms. The Terra Kingdom, while peaceful and docile, were still allies to Concordia. They were observing closely, watching for any weaknesses or signs that the Concordia Kingdom would fall and crumble.

Micah glanced over his shoulder, spying the group leisurely catching up. Josiah was speaking to two Terra men, entirely ignorant to Micah’s conversation with Barth. The only one who kept directly at Micah’s shoulder was Conway. The eyes and ears of Calder. For surely, the guard would report everything he observed on this trip back to Calder.

“Are you going to tell me next, Prince Ezra, that those in line for the throne often receive death threats?” Barth inquired with wary humor. “That it is not a unique situation to Concordia Kingdom, but to most royal heirs?”

Micah’s gaze sharpened.

He resisted the temptation to raise his lip and expose his teeth in a snarl. “I cannot be the only one who has studied our nation’s monarchy,” Micah replied amiably, yet his intentions were to insult. “There have been numerous assassinations and assassination attempts on figureheads who represent change.”  

“And you represent change?”

He knew what Barth was trying to accomplish. Away from Josiah, away from Calder, he considered Micah a weak link as he searched for a penetrable spot in Concordia’s future. The Terra Kingdom would not support a failing ally, after all. Calder’s attempt to intimidate the Terra and Eurus Kingdoms with this political tour may have backfired. The two kingdoms would not be intimidated, but rather suspicious of Concordia’s future. If they found a weakness, perhaps they’d even exploit it.

Micah represented the mirror into the future. They’d probe and they’d press until they were satisfied. He refused to be the cause of Concordia’s downfall with its neighbors.  

“One does not need to look too hard to see I represent a change, Delegator. My appearance alone suggests change. Or have you overlooked my racial background?”

Barth’s seemed taken aback at the blatant question, but he veiled his features well. “You were supposed to represent unity, not upheaval.”

Clearly, even the Terra Kingdom was aware of the fraction within the walls of Concordia.

Micah inclined his head. “Unity signifies peace and harmony. It is a state of being joined as a whole. In a kingdom still struggling over bruised egos and pride, it will take time to see each other as fellow citizens rather than reluctant neighbors.” He glanced over his shoulder at Conway and continued. “Seeing me near the throne stokes memories of war. It is a reminder of a loss of culture or a threat to established traditions. Death threats are to be _expected_.”

Conway’s lips thinned.

“However, do not mistake the situation.” Micah turned back to Barth. His expression tightened and froze, his eyes focused intently. “Threats will be dealt with accordingly, as will any fool who attacks my kingdom with the unfounded notion we are weak. If you need proof of our resiliency, you may take a glimpse inside those coffins we’re delivering to your Chief.” 

Barth regarded Micah closely and nodded, a pleased curl to his lips. “You are entirely understood, Prince Ezra.” He bowed his head with an act of contrition. “Forgive me, but you understand our need for assurance.” 

“Is there a problem, gentlemen?”

Josiah finally made his reappearance, along with the other members of the Terra court. Orange eyes looked between Barth and Micah, easily observing the tension and the stiffened postures.

Behind the fire Elemental, Barth’s men also noted the unease.

“Delegator Barth and I were simply arguing the advantages and disadvantages of a flexible, double-edged sword,” Micah replied easily. “I understand most of the minerals used by blacksmiths originate from your kingdom.”

Barth recovered just as smoothly, laughing all the while. “Indeed. I look forward to showing you the underground.”

With that, Barth shoved open the doors to the derelict outbuilding.

It was more like a small shed, yet once the doors opened, Micah spied the tracks and the dark abyss leading to the underground. Sitting on the tracks was a contraption he had never seen before. It appeared like a train, but smaller, and the compartments were open and large enough for only a few people.

“Two to a car,” Barth instructed, smiling widely as he ushered them forward. “Please, King Josiah and Prince Ezra, take the first car. The front offers the best views.”

Heeding the man’s order, Josiah and Micah walked down the gravel aisle. Stubborn stone made up the tunnel walls, their surface ragged, sharp, and sloppy. There wasn’t much light to guide their way, yet Josiah possessed a confidence as he led them into the darkness.  

The other man entered the car first, reaching out and offering his hand to Micah. Hardly believing the gentleman act, Micah placed his hand in his, not surprised when Josiah bodily maneuvered him inside the car, his fingers compressing around his wrist like a noose. Looking up at the Igni king, Micah knew exactly what he was inquiring with the tight grip.

“A pissing contest,” he informed dispassionately.  

“And you were victorious.”

Josiah did not sit until Micah lowered himself on the hard bench. Looking back, near the light of outside, he watched as the men successfully loaded the caskets. Just over his shoulder, Conway and Barth climbed into the car directly behind him. Turning forward, Micah clasped his hands patiently in his lap. 

“We shall see.” His eyes unfocused, drowning in the blackness and the sensation of losing one of his senses. Inhaling, he closed his eyes and smiled unfeelingly. “For his sake, I truly hope he admitted acquiescence.”

He did not have to look at Josiah to feel the dark humor emanating from the man.

“My child,” Josiah started affectionately, only for its warmth to drop away and mutate into tactical distantness. “One day, may all the mortals tremble at your feet, for that will be the only way they will obtain redemption and salvation.”

Micah’s vindictiveness withered.

Something far more sinister and unnerving took its place.

Josiah’s words washed over him, raising the hairs on his arms. There was something there—in _Agni’s_ promise—that frightened him. A cold horror, a promised trepidation. He looked to the man, distinguishing blurred hues of different colors in the dark, but ultimately drawn to the eyes. Whether the outside light caught his gaze or not, hues of crimson and orange smoldered beneath the lens as they focused intently on Micah.

Fortunately, he was spared from fumbling for an appropriate response.

A high-pitched squeal resonated across the tunnel and they started moving.

Micah adjusted his shoulders and tried to relax. “Have you been down here before?”

“In which lifetime?” Josiah countered smugly, his voice barely audible. “This lifetime? Yes, though I’m afraid my relationship with the Terra Kingdom wasn’t very friendly with previous personalities.”

“It’s hard to imagine any of your previous personalities as _friendly_ ,” Micah responded scathingly. “Least enough you’d get along with anyone.”

The man liked to remind Micah of his true identity. It was intentional, he knew, simply because Agni did not appreciate Micah proclaiming that he’d always be _Josiah._ Just Josiah. Micah felt a lick of triumph knowing that he could get under the man’s skin.

“Despite your fear of being underground, I imagine you will be quite pleased with the tour,” Josiah continued efficiently.

“I don’t have a _fear_ of the underground,” he countered quickly.

Josiah simply hummed, disbelieving, but humoring. The cart jerked as it descended further downhill. Stiffening, Micah curled a hand around the bench, feeling the atmosphere transform. It grew harder to breathe and the temperature plummeted. Darkness enfolded them entirely. Someone coughed behind them, the sound startling in the silence.

They traveled a good distance with nothing but darkness following their wake.

Up ahead, a small torch, barely lit, beckoned them forward. Micah’s gaze rose when their surroundings gradually lightened with a warm glow. He observed the dark, fathomless rock above and the thousands upon thousands of twinkling stone particles. It resembled the night sky in Region 20 where stars dotted the heavens.

The cart travelled further beneath the earth’s surface, leaving behind the glittering rocks and sinking once more into complete black. Not a moment later, light settled in the distance and the sound of clashing metal resonated.

“Up ahead, you will see the Mining Parish,” Barth called to attention. “Only the tip of what truly lays beneath the surface, but it is still an impressive sight.”  

Indeed it was.

Their transportation _clunked_ unimpressively on a bridge. No guardrails, nothing on either side of them as they travelled over a large, fathomless hole. Micah craned his neck over the side of the car to stare down, his stomach flipping unpleasantly.

“The intention is to admire the Mining Parish, not the bowels of purgatory.”

Upon Josiah’s ridicule, Micah jerked his head back up.

It resembled a beehive. Holes punctured into the sides of the immaculate, hollow chamber. It was _huge._ Micah craned his neck back in order to catch a glimpse to above, but could see nothing but darkness. On either side of them, dark-colored stone, with glittering deposits, lay several yards away from the bridge.

Men and women scaled the walls. Small lights and voices emitted from the multiple caverns. Steel punctured stone. The smell of dank earth hit his nostrils. Emeralds flashed. Rubies sparkled. Sapphires and diamonds twinkled.

He tried to take it all in.

The busyness, the controlled chaos.

A woman in mining gear suddenly leapt from the edge of a cavern, plummeting to the dark abyss below. Micah surged forward in his seat, his eyes wide as he watched her fall. Suddenly, a piece of earth jutted out from nowhere and she caught the edge with her fingers. Abruptly, a set of earth-like stairs appeared and she bounded up her creation without missing a single beat. Her movements were ludicrously fluid, cat-like as she entered a new cavern.

“ _Agni!_ ” Micah swore loudly, forgetting himself, forgetting his situation, and embracing his inner child at the disbelieving spectacle. “Did you see that?” he demanded excitingly.

He turned to Josiah.

The man simply watched him impassively.

Micah quickly plummeted back to reality and turned away, clearing his throat as he straightened back into his formal posture. He couldn’t help the wicked smirk, however, and did nothing to quell it as another earth Elemental zoomed out in front of them. Executing fancy back flips and cartwheels on conjured earth, the miner disappeared down under the bridge, prompting Micah to lurch forward to watch.

 _Captivating._   

Barth laughed pleasantly and clapped his hands, clearly overjoyed at Micah’s reactions. “I’m afraid they are showing off for you, Prince Ezra. They can’t resist the pretentiousness of their skills.”

As the earth Elemental came to a stop, he performed an extravagant bow in their direction. Micah quelled the urge to applaud. “And justifiably so,” he said breathlessly. “They are truly graceful. Very comfortable with their Element.” Micah turned to Barth. “I had assumed most Elementals possessed noble blood.”

Micah cursed himself as soon as he said it.

This was the Terra Kingdom. They had no nobility here.

Fortunately, Barth did not think anything of it, and if he did, he did not correct Micah. “Unlike Agni and Varuna, it seems as if our goddess, Prithvi, blesses many of her children,” Barth educated. “Elementals do not run in families, but are rather a chance of destiny.” 

Micah considered this and acknowledged Barth’s reverent-like tone when mentioning Prithvi. “During my last visit, I saw the statue of Prithvi above ground, nearly in shambles.” While his torso faced Barth, he remained vigilant for more earth Elementals. “How do your people worship her, if not in stone and tributes?”

“Prithvi asked for no monuments in her image. Instead, we thank her every time we break bread, every time we move earth, and every time we plant a new crop. We give thanks to her and ask for her guidance. Prithvi consumes every mundane, daily task of ours.”

Micah mulled over the information. The Unda and Igni people prayed to their respected gods almost nightly, they attended mass frequently, and they performed ceremonial rituals for celebratory events or sacrifices when they wished to plead to Agni or Varuna for something. Their worshippers were widespread, their prayers most likely more than enough to fuel the two gods. Not to mention the large, impressive sculptures and chapels erected around civilians to constantly remind them of their chosen god.

Despite the splendor and the decorum with Varuna and Agni, Micah wondered if Prithvi’s less formal convert base was just as strong, if not stronger than her two male counterparts. After all, she integrated _every aspect_ of her followers’ lives.

Micah made a noise in his throat. “Prithvi sounds less pretentious than either Agni or Varuna.” His observation earned sharp regards from all the water Elementals as well as from Josiah.

Barth simply laughed. “I prefer the term _less theatrical_ , Prince Ezra.”

“Less theatrical.” He glanced at Josiah and smiled. “I like that.”

Josiah was unamused. “Turn forward, silly child.”

Micah smirked and faced forward only because they were entering another tunnel. Leaving behind the Mining Parish, and entering the caves, they witnessed several large crystal formations on their way to the capital. It reminded him of the crystal he’d received during his last visit.

The colors in the caves were astounding.

He stared in awe, reluctantly admitting the raw beauty of underground caverns.

Eventually, they reached the end of the tunnel and another underground village loomed ahead. This time, Micah knew they arrived at the capital. The train-like transportation stopped abruptly at the mouth of the tunnel. A Terra guard, positioned at the side of the tracks, released a lever that clearly controlled the momentum of their cargo.

Josiah stepped from their car, and before he had the audacity to offer Micah his hand again, the younger man scrambled out as gracefully as possible. Ignoring the amused look from the Igni king, Micah allowed Barth to cup his shoulder and steer him towards the staircase leading to the brightly lit village. Though still a distance away, Micah glimpsed at the beginnings of a large structure, perhaps the palace.

“The center of the capital is open to above.”

Finally reaching the mouth of the capital, Micah stopped and gazed up at the open sky. Staircases led way to above ground, wrapping and roping around the palace’s exterior. The base of the palace started underground and shot straight up towards the skies. Glass and crystal, along with other majestic stones, made up the palace walls, reminding Micah of the palace in Concordia.

Perhaps the Terra Kingdom provided the materials to Concordia during construction.  

Exotic gardens, full of bright flowers and pathways, lay at the base of the palace. Further down, deeper into earth’s embrace, markets upon markets crowded the busy streets. There were so many people, so much action.

Micah could hardly take it all in.

Amidst the sea of silvery-hued auras, his attention automatically fell on the red-gold aura hovering just a distance away. A young boy stared at him, motionless amongst the sea of moving bodies. Micah immediately identified the child as the one who’d knocked into him during his last visit and presented him with a crystal.

_Like your eyes._

The boy was a god.

The revelation was shocking, albeit a bit sickening. Why would a god possess one so young? One so vulnerable and open? Possession of such caliber would stifle innocence and taint it with ancient knowledge and deceit.

The child’s eyes landed just over Micah’s shoulder, causing him to turn to see what garnered the boy’s attention. It wasn’t unexpected that Josiah— _Agni—_ was the boy’s focus, though the fire god had his back turned away, oblivious to a fellow god in the proximity.

Turning back around, Micah noted the little boy had disappeared.

“Has something caught your attention, Prince Ezra?”

Micah caught a few eyes of passing citizens. They openly stared at him, some even turned to their companion and gushed. None of them, however, was the young child.

“You were right, Delegator.” Micah turned in the man’s general direction, but diligently swept the area for the boy. “The capital is just as spectacular as the sanctuary city.”

_There._

He spied the boy fidgeting with a fern near the palace gardens. Almost as if the god were allowing the boy free reign over his body, the child maintained shy eye contact. He hid partially behind a few bushes and flashed a bashful smile. This time, however, the boy did not escape Josiah’s notice. As soon as Josiah focused on the child, the boy ducked away almost immediately.

Micah watched the Igni king’s expression intently, waiting for any sort of emotion to crease the impassive stone. Only, Josiah kept his features irritatingly smooth, and instead, turned and caught Micah’s regard.

“I am pleased you find it noteworthy.” Delegator Barth ensnared Micah’s refocus. “Perhaps we will take a tour at a later time, but please, let us enter the palace. Chief Heres is anticipating your arrival.”  

Barth ushered them toward the entrance to the palace and Micah dutifully followed, struggling to pull his mind away from the godchild to focus on the challenge ahead.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We received some more fan art for Immunity!! You can view it [HERE](https://epic-solemnity.livejournal.com/) along with the other pieces of work!
> 
> There *may* or *may not* be another update for this weekend. We shall see. (: Sorry for any typos you may have seen. I've read this chapter so many times now that I doubt I can catch anything further.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **NOTES:** It has come to my attention some of you may missed the "alert" for chapter 13? This is a double weekend update, so make sure you have read chapter 13 before this! Thanks xD

**14\. Chapter Fourteen**

 

“Aw. Sachiel.”

“Seaton.”

Thanking the server for the tumbler of whiskey, Sachiel closed in on the current head of the Edlen family. It was an unideal environment to face the man, for the eyes of several noblemen and noblewomen followed his movements with fine-tuned skepticism and prejudice. He hadn’t faced this level of ridicule since his late wife’s passing.

Apparently, a decorated warrior no longer held significance in this society.

Today, gaudy decorations adorned the Edlen mansion. A birthday celebration. Sachiel couldn’t quite remember which Edlen was turning another year older. A young one on the cusp of adulthood, he assumed, judging from the lack of children present and the addition of young adults—a bit younger than Kai’s age—that were present.

He’d received the invitation with its engraved calligraphy and heavy stock paper. After Seaton’s continued refusal to grant him audience, Sachiel decided to take the initiative and attend the gathering, if only to speak with the Edlen patriarch.

He’d promised Ezra the whereabouts of Kai, after all. Before the prince returned from his political tour, Sachiel hoped to present him with his right-hand man. A justified and necessary reunion to move forward. Both young men seemed rather contingent of the other, no matter how much either man liked to pretend otherwise.

“A beautiful day for a celebration,” Sachiel hailed, moving closer to Seaton.

The man continued to lounge in his chair, not bothering to stand and greet Sachiel. A harsh and very clear insult. Condescendingly, Seaton crossed his legs and lifted his glass in Sachiel’s direction in mock salute.

“Beautiful day, indeed.”

Sachiel smiled thinly, not at all perturbed. “I would like to request a private audience with you, Seaton. It is about your son.”

Those in proximity hushed and poorly concealed their eavesdropping.

“My son is no longer your concern,” Seaton responded neutrally. He looked down at the amber liquid in his tumbler and swirled it arrogantly. “Effective today, you are no longer his instructor. I shudder at the mere thought of leaving him alone with you. A grievous error on my behalf for not realizing it sooner.”

Public humiliation was the man’s endgame.

It was why Sachiel received the invitation in the first place. A dare.

Sachiel pondered over the challenge, realizing he had no ally in this room. The Abitals were not present, neither were the Sednas, or the Bays—all families of Prince Ezra’s academy team. He made a mental note to visit each of them.

First, his public humiliation waited.

“I am sorry to hear that,” Sachiel responded just as emotionlessly. “Kai would have made a very prized warrior if he’d harnessed the Igni form.”

Add insult to injury.

Seaton simply smirked in light of the age-old argument. “Alas, your skills are undeniable and legendary, Sachiel. I am certain you would have made my son the perfect warrior, though your reputation precedes you in other areas I find _indecent.”_

“Please, enlighten me,” Sachiel urged.

“Rumors are suggesting you are having intimate relations with Micah Egan.” Seaton offered a snake-like smile as the whispers fanned in his immediate area. Next to Seaton, Muriel exuded the air of a proud brother. “Such rumors of you enjoying attractive men were around long ago, Sachiel, though I did not put much weight on them out of respect for you and your talents with the sword.” Seaton shook his head. “However, the boy is around the same age as your son would have been, no?”

Rage washed him cold at the mention of his stillborn child.

“That _boy_ is the prince of Concordia,” Sachiel countered with quiet venom. “And that _boy_ is Lord Josiah’s Chosen. If such rumors were true, Seaton, Josiah would have my head.”

“Was it not confirmed, by _you,_ that Micah Egan expressed he is unattached despite his ties as Lord Josiah’s Chosen?”

“Even so, Lord Josiah would still not consent to my liaisons with Prince Ezra, especially considering our professional relationship. It is futile to try to incriminate His Royal Highness, as he is both an adult and willing,” Sachiel stated. “He is no longer a boy, but rather a young, powerful man learning more about this society each day. I caution you and others who would readily taint his name and threaten his chances, for once he masters this society, he will conquer all.”

“We are doing no such thing,” Muriel interjected pleasantly.

“We are merely tainting _your_ name and threatening _your_ chances,” Seaton said casually. “We are no longer going to turn a blind eye to your transgressions. In these times, we need unity and we need absolute trust.”

“You mean absolute submission,” Sachiel contradicted.

Seaton smiled thinly and gazed at his drink. “The high society is going to stick together, Sachiel. It is time to bear arms and ready ourselves. It will be a strenuous ride.”

He did not believe Seaton and Muriel would act quite so publicly. Seaton was establishing himself as the spearhead. Others would see his alienation of those who opposed him, people like Sachiel, the Abitals, Kai, the Sednas, and the Bays. Observers would, in turn, grow intimidated and meek.

They’d follow Seaton out of self-preservation.

“Then proceed cordially and at a distance,” Sachiel started, his voice loud enough for the room to hear. “Because Prince Ezra is a force to be reckoned with if confronted. I pray to Varuna you do not experience his power first handedly.”

Seaton’s smugness froze as he leisurely looked back up at Sachiel.

Setting down his drink, the Edlen patriarch stood. Crowding Sachiel, he maintained his pleasant, distant smile. “No matter how powerful the threat, it will perish against numbers,” the man murmured quietly. “His support are dying numbers. Perhaps you should save yourself while you’re still standing, Sachiel.”

“I always do enjoy a challenge.”

Looking down, and away from Seaton, Sachiel raised his drink to his lips and drank liberally. Tipping back the contents in one swallow, he deposited the crystal tumbler on the fireplace mantle.

“A good day to all of you.”

Sachiel nodded pleasantly to the onlookers and turned to leave. Unfortunately, Seaton would not disclose Kai’s location. Ezra would be displeased, but other sources may have an inclination of the Edlen heir’s whereabouts.

“Oh, and Sachiel?”

Feigning boredom, he looked over his shoulder, knowing Seaton would have saved the best for last. In Seaton’s mind, Sachiel was already defeated, already convulsing on the floor. A kick while he was down would only cement Sachiel’s fate.

“Don’t bother returning to Concordia Academy. His Majesty requests that you return home instead. Your services are no longer needed as chairman and your affiliations with the academy are hereby suspended. No one wants you near their children.”

Allegations of being a sexual predator would forever tarnish his reputation and reduce it to nothing but withered remnants of the glory it once possessed. War hero and skilled swordsman no longer, but a leering old man who preyed on pretty, young men. Partially true, he supposed with dry hilarity, yet his partners were always willing.

Eagerly willing. Moreover, not one of those men were _ever_ a current student at the academy.

Sachiel scoffed and offered a mocking bow. “Anything for His Majesty.”

Without waiting for a reaction, Sachiel escaped the confinements of the mansion. Outside, it was clammy, hardly a reprieve from the stuffiness of overgrown egos from inside the mansion walls. Tugging on his gloves, Sachiel proceeded down the stairs in a flourish of robes.

So it has begun.

It would appear as if he and Councilwoman Abital would become firm allies after all.

Irony at its best, he thought with a small, bitter smirk.

 

*** * * ***

 

Pale blue eyes glazed over as the sense of unease from earlier returned.

Facing the floor to ceiling windows, Micah could no longer admire the green and wild landscape before him, but rather felt himself fall into the cold grip of apprehension. It turned his skin clammy and left an odd, bitter taste in his mouth. His dim reflection mirrored back at him through the window and he instantly noticed the scalding, red-gold web pulsating across his skin.

Upon the sudden discovery, a spasm of pain left him breathless. Micah emitted a sharp, uncensored gasp, and fell against the window. His body jerked oddly and he could do nothing to prevent the seizure-like jerks.

“ _Your Highness!_ ”  

Conway Edlen appeared beside him, a hand reaching out to touch. Micah reared away, feeling the spasms of pain diminish as if they were never there in the first place. The clamminess left, as did the sour taste on his tongue.

He blinked, hurrying to straighten from his slouched position against the windows. “At ease, Captain,” Micah murmured, feeling foolish, yet uneasy with the phantom attack. “Just a mild migraine.”

Conway offered a disbelieving expression before backing away.  

Micah faced the windows again, feeling several eyes focused intently on his back.

Delegator Barth deposited Micah and his party in a large room as he retrieved Chief Heres. The room was rather modern with clean lines and white, glossy stone. A sharp contrast to the rest of the kingdom’s roguish charm. While there was food, fire, and comfortable seating, the military men stood stiffly and silently around the perimeter of the room, as did the royal guards.

The only one who decided to sit was Josiah.

Micah could feel the man’s close regard. Somehow, the man’s eyes felt different from all the others in the room. He could _feel_ them focused on the nape of his neck with single-minded concentration. It was enough to put him on edge. Turning, he caught the eyes and held them defiantly. Josiah simply raised an eyebrow, his expression lazy, slack, a sharp contrast from his searching stare.

Micah kept his hands clasped behind his back as he walked around the settee and approached the fire. He stared into the flames, distracted by the precious stones buried superciliously amongst the glowing embers.

The door abruptly opened and Micah turned.

Leading the way were two men dressed in odd-looking robes followed closely by Delegator Barth.

“We just need a quick confirmation, King Josiah.”

The two men, who Micah assumed were Healers, approached the two caskets. Both men placed a cloth over their mouth and nose as they worked open the caskets. Anticipating what was to come, the military men in proximity all hurried across the room. Three more men entered the room, wearing the same, deep taupe color robes as Delegator Barth before joining their associates near the caskets.

As the coffin opened, Micah imagined the smell was particularly noxious.

Fortunately, he was far enough away.

Pressing the cloths against their faces, the Healers probed the bodies with gloved hands, identifying the corpse inside before turning to the next. When both lids were firmly reclosed, they nodded to Barth.

“Have your men positively identified them as your missing delegators?” Josiah inquired casually as he considered the decanter of wine.   

“I apologize, King Josiah, but we had to confirm.”

“I imagine Chief Heres will see us now that he knows his previous delegators are ripening his lavish palace.” Josiah formed it as a statement and an order rather than a request. “I’m afraid Prince Ezra and I have places to be. Time is of the essence.”

Barth appeared flustered as he bowed stiffly. “Please. Follow me.”

Josiah stood and motioned for Micah to walk in front of him.

“Military will stay here,” he ordered as the men made a move to follow. “Eat. Rest.”

The men in uniform stood at attention upon Josiah’s request while Calder’s private guards filed in line behind Micah. It would appear Josiah did not want the Concordia military to accompany them, if only for the symbol of war they presented.

Barth led them through several corridors and down a number of staircases. As the sound of boisterous music and chattering voices filtered through the hallways, Micah had a sinking suspicion that Josiah’s request to speak with Chief Heres wouldn’t be so private after all. His assumptions proved correct as they closed in on a grandiose ballroom.

And grandiose it was…

Micah scoffed in disbelief as they walked into the ballroom from the side entrance. They drew little attention from the numerous guests, but why would the guests watch the side entrance when riches encased their surroundings?

Exotic and luxury stone ran up the walls, broken apart by large rubies, emeralds, and other colorful gems. Gold, in excessive, and silver, all found an area to claim with righteous territorial greed. Columns, stained glass windows…

Truthfully, Micah thought it was a bit gaudy and excessive.

The more he studied his surroundings, the more he felt as if this did not properly represent the Terra Kingdom. Even the guests, with their muted clothes, did not seem to fit in this room the way Igni and Unda nobility would have.

It was almost like a show.

A political display of wealth.

Indeed, Micah assumed the people in the Terra Kingdom hardly vacated this palace. They certainly wouldn’t hold wild and spiritual festivals inside these walls. No, Chief Heres wanted to show off his kingdom’s riches to a capital known for its materialistic posh society.

Micah was a bit disappointed. He appreciated the Terra Kingdom because of their easy way of life, their complete abandon with objects and status, their ability to cohabit in the kingdom without social classes getting in the way, and their several decades of peace. Here, he just saw an attempt to replicate themselves as Concordia elites.

“Try not to inhale too much, Your Highness,” Conway muttered next to him as they made their way to a large platform. “Especially with your… migraines.”

Before the words left Conway’s mouth, Micah already noticed the slight haze in the room. Across the hall, upon the table full of food, sat an odd instrument. Smoke emitted from it as men and women took turns inhaling the spice. Recreational drug use was not an unfamiliar notion to Micah. After all, he’d nearly died of _Dulcis Waters,_ a drug the Unda people consumed from time to time. He was not familiar, however, with it being accepted so openly.

Next to him, Conway’s displeasure was evident.

“Please, gentleman. Up here.” Barth climbed the platform that housed several padded chairs and side tables, all situated in a circle. While the guards stayed at the base of the platform, Micah followed Josiah’s lead and approached a man in dark burgundy robes.

Considering the others on the platform were wearing taupe, Micah assumed these were the rest of the delegators. As Barth and the other men climbed the platform, he counted eight delegators in total.

Some men, some women.

“Josiah!” the man in burgundy greeted warmly. He stood up ungracefully and reached out to grab Josiah’s hand. “Good to see you again.”

“Chief Heres,” Josiah responded coolly, a sharp distinction to Heres’ informality. “I had hoped we could speak privately.”

“Nonsense,” Heres rebutted fiercely before turning to Micah. “I don’t like closed doors, Josiah, you know this. My delegators have just as much privilege to hear the ongoing of our kingdom as much as I.”

Micah blinked slowly as the man’s breath hit his senses. Sour booze and something noxious, the source most likely in that pipe next to his chair. He studied the man through lowered lids, noticing the casual way he held himself and the open, friendly demeanor. Chief Heres was of average height for a male, though he had very broad shoulders and a thick neck. His nose was large and flat, yet the rest of his features seemed rather pointed and aristocratic. His light green eyes stood out from his dark, flawless skin, though the exotic color was hardly noticeable as they squinted with great humor.

“Well. Ezra.” The man grabbed his hand and shook it. “Last time I saw you, you were a sack of pink. Unsightly and ugly.”

Though Conway Edlen wasn’t even on the platform, Micah could just _feel_ the royal guard shiver with abhorrence over Heres’ blatant discourtesy. Even Barth appeared rather aghast as he hovered uncertainly between Josiah and Heres. 

Micah didn’t particularly mind the lack of etiquette. “Chief Heres—”

“Please. No titles tonight.”

Pale eyes squinted at the interruption. “It’s a pleasure,” he finished tightly.

His hand, which Heres still held captive, continued to be pulled in the direction of the chairs. Micah could do little but follow the lead. As they came to a stop in the center of the chairs, Chief Heres began introducing him to the eight delegators. Only seconds later, with absolutely no recollection of anyone’s name, Micah found himself forced into a chair with a glass of liquid pressed into his palm.

“Try,” Heres urged, appearing a bit too sadistic for Micah’s liking.

Turning, Micah looked to Josiah, who settled next to him. The man gave nothing away, if only for the slight tightening around the eyes to show his displeasure at the situation.

Micah had never imagined Chief Heres to be a man so blatantly informal.

It was a… pleasant surprise. 

“You can drink without your uncle’s permission, Ezra.” Heres laughed and a few other delegators, who leaned forward to watch Micah, chuckled just as well at the sly remark. “It will grow hair on your chest.”

“I think I’m partial to a hairless chest,” Micah murmured quietly.

Heres laughed loudly again. “Try, please.”

Sniffing the liquid, Micah nearly recoiled with familiarity. He held up the glass and peered at the liquid, noticing the green tint. He swirled it fondly. “It’s a very potent absinthe.” 

This quieted Heres. “You are aware of such drink?”

Despite the music, the dancing, and the large number of guests conversing, the platform surprisingly muffled the majority of sound. Crimson drapes of rich fabric hung around the platform, offering a semblance of privacy. The chairs were organized for the uniformity, but also for intimacy. Micah caught the eyes of all the delegators, realizing that this wasn’t about wooing Chief Heres, but rather the delegators as a whole. Heres did not rule the Terra Kingdom. His delegators and his people ruled it.

It was why Micah found the whole kingdom fascinating.

Democracy.

“I worked at a tavern in the outskirt regions, close to the old Igni Empire,” Micah informed. “As you can imagine, there was a lot of hostility towards the capital. We had a jug of absinthe that actually collected more dust than the booze imported from the capital.”

This earned him a round of chuckles.

Heres clapped his hands, pleased. “The Igni people have unwavering pride.”

“That they do,” Micah agreed. He looked to Josiah, noticing the man watching him attentively. Raising the absinthe in mock salute, Micah downed the small amount in one go.

It _burned._ He’d expected as much. The warmth pooled in his belly and spread to his extremities. Micah closed his eyes and smiled, withholding the shudder and the cough. But _Agni,_ it was potent! Too potent. He hadn’t believed he was especially tense, but his muscles immediately relaxed, as did his mind.

“He is successful!” Heres proclaimed proudly. “You can hold your liquor well and probably already have a chest full of hair, Your Highness!”

Micah chuckled, clearly passing a test. He noticed immediately that Heres had addressed him with a title, something he assumed was not encouraged tonight. “What is it that you drink it with? Surely not straight.” He handed the small, empty glass to a hovering waiter. “Sugar water? Lemon?”

“You’d fit in well here,” a delegator observed. She motioned for the waiter, who then handed Micah a glass of watered-down absinthe with lemon and sugar water. “We only drink it straight during celebratory events.”

“Your uncle never enjoyed the absinthe,” Heres grumbled unhappily. He cast a disproving glance in Josiah’s direction. “Calder has trained him well. His spine is as stiff as they come in Unda.”

Micah felt a flicker of overprotectiveness. “That is not so much Calder’s training, but rather Lord Josiah’s upbringing,” Micah said, rationalizing he was not defending Josiah, but rather his father. “Royalty is expected to adhere to social constraints. Even the Igni royalty.”

“But not you, not yet,” Heres observed.

“I was not raised at the palace,” Micah ascertained.

 _Because Agni deemed it so._   

Heres leaned forward. “Then it is fortunate we get to see the real Ezra before such… royal monarchy straightens your spine.” His light green eyes looked to Josiah over Micah’s head. “It is unfortunate you came under such circumstances.”

“As my nephew stated earlier,” Josiah began, “The circumstances surrounding our arrival may be unpleasant, but that does not mean our visit has to be shroud in the same light.”

Micah looked to Josiah, surprised at the man’s word for word recitation.

Heres appeared grim, losing his good nature and wide-open merriment. “True words, but I understand the reason why you’re here. I hear it and heed Calder’s warning. We know your feelings about Noir Users, Lord Josiah, and appreciate it.”

Josiah nodded solemnly, holding his own, untouched absinthe. Apparently, that was the way a royal was supposed to handle liquor at public events. How silly of Micah to tip it back in one gulp.

“And what of you, Prince Ezra?” Barth inquired amongst the grave atmosphere. “What are your views on Noir Users?”

Micah clutched his glass, the only sign of his unease. Josiah’s expression revealed nothing but sadistic curiosity, the kind of expression that indicated the man was eager to watch Micah squirm his own way through a situation. The delegators and Heres, on the other hand, looked to him with sharp regard.

He didn’t know what Josiah’s public stance was on Noir Users. At least not what he’d told the Terra Kingdom. Micah was not a fool. He knew Josiah was creating his own allies within the Terra Kingdom. Why wouldn’t he? When Calder was foolish enough to let him off his leash, Josiah would run and play.

Unfortunately, Micah needed allies in the Terra Kingdom as well. He did not know Terra’s stance on Noir Users. They claimed their people did not practice the dark arts, yet Calder delivered the contrary evidence today in the form of two, decaying bodies. Micah also needed to take into account what Calder represented. He couldn’t be too extreme from his father, least he receive further backlash at the capital.

He cleared his throat.

“Clearly, I haven’t been around as long as my uncle and father,” he informed the transfixed audience. “I prefer to take stances on subjects only when I am well-informed. Noir Users is not an issue I know much about.”  

Heres appeared dissatisfied. “Calder would be proud. A very diplomatic response.”

“Politically correct, I think, is a better term,” another female delegator agreed.

To hide his growing smirk at their displeasure, Micah sipped his absinthe. Across from him, a male delegator inhaled from the spice instrument and exhaled a large cloud of smoke. His dark, fathomless eyes surveyed Micah from within the thick haze. “Let us hear a personal opinion, then,” he requested. “We won’t take your answer as the representation of Concordia Kingdom, but rather just… _Ezra’s_ opinion.”    

Well, when he put it that way…

“I believe in putting out fires when they catch light,” Micah started deliberately. “I also believe people should have the freedom to learn whatever they wish to learn. Noir Users are unproblematic until they are not.”

“In short, he supports those who wish to learn Noir Magic until they become an active threat,” a voice sounded behind him.

Micah turned, instantly finding himself captivated by vivid green eyes.

He never found women attractive. They were too soft for his tastes, too luscious, too delicate. Clearly, when he decided all women were undesirable, he’d never met this one.

She was gorgeous.

He openly stared as she climbed the platform with a sense of entitlement. Dark, flawless skin stretched over her high cheekbones and narrow jawline. Her hair, which was a mess of tight, thick curls, pinned haphazardly in a half up-do. Her stature was average in height, yet her limbs were strong and toned. She observed him just as closely, her lips quirked with soft humor.

“One could argue your stance also indicates you are not proactive.”

He nearly missed her carefully posed jibe. “One can only be so proactive until they become a paranoid tyrant,” Micah responded softly. “Those ruled under paranoia live in nothing but invisible cages fabricated as total freedom.”

She appeared content with his answer. “But aren’t all monarchs tyrants?”

Heres interrupted by chuckling and motioning between Micah and the woman. “Ezra, I’d like you to meet my daughter, Gaia.”

Proper etiquette forced him to rise from his chair. She curtsied deeply and he bowed, taking her hand. As he pressed his lips against her palm, he suddenly became aware of her silver aura progressively staining a red-gold hue until it smothered the mortal soul. Abruptly, he dropped her hand and stepped away.

She watched him all the while, her expression and countenance remaining the same despite the god now possessing her body. “What is the matter, Prince Ezra?” she inquired cheerfully.

“A pleasure to see you again, Gaia,” Josiah intervened silkily. He did not stand, but rather inclined his head, his eyes all-knowing as he observed the god in front of him.

Micah sat back down, put out by the appearance of the deity. He could not tell from Josiah’s reaction whether he knew the identity of their visitor, or if he were merely playing along. It was always a challenge discerning his emotions. Perhaps he had no emotions other than sadistic amusement…

Gaia sat next to her father, having eyes only for Micah. “It is remarkable seeing you,” she started, entirely ignoring Josiah. “The child—the byproduct—of Agni and Varuna.”

Josiah stirred. “Such a child does not exist,” he disputed, almost insulted.

“Oh?” Gaia queried. “He is the child of a fire and water Elemental. Each respective god blessed his parents. That makes him a creation of both Agni and Varuna. Ironic, considering those two gods do not get along.”

“That is a rather fanatical way of viewing things.”

Micah looked between the two, seeing nothing but polite distaste.

“It does raise a very intriguing question,” Barth started, clueless to the two quarreling gods in his vicinity. “Which god _do_ you worship, Prince Ezra?” 

All eyes turned in his direction, as if this particular topic was far more pressing than his stance on Noir Users. Considering the Terra people were exceptionally religious, Micah had a sentiment that this was an imperative test. Surely not as imperative as his alcohol tolerance, Micah thought with amusement.

“I was raised to worship and respect both,” he replied stiffly. “And I do.”

Clearly, the truth was not appropriate in this case, no matter how much he wanted to say he was _between gods_ at this point in time. He eyed his nearly empty drink. Without looking up, he knew the delegators shifted, clearly unhappy with his diplomatic response. He realized now that he could not use political approaches with the Terra delegators. They just wanted the naked truth.

“But I am partial towards Agni,” he admitted, nearly biting his tongue.

Next to him, Agni most likely basked in the sensation of Micah saying his name.  

Micah finished his drink promptly.

“I wonder…” Heres began, looking between his daughter and Micah. “What would be the result of a union between someone like Ezra and an earth Elemental?”

_Someone like Ezra._

There was no one else like him but _him_. Micah wanted to sigh and rub his temples at the turn this conversation took.  “There are several things about the Terra Kingdom that fascinates me. One of those things is your unique political system. Particularly your government,” Micah said, dissolving the quiet tension. “Your delegators are elected by the citizens, correct?”

“As is the chief,” Barth confirmed, appearing just as eager as Micah to avoid Heres’ subtle mention of a betrothal. “The people elect delegators once every five years. The chief is elected every ten with the option of proscription by the delegators.”

“Who are your pool of candidates for delegators?” he asked, truly interested in the prospect of a democracy. “Can they be reelected?”

“To avoid social disparity, anyone from the assigned parishes can elect to run for delegator,” a woman with very short hair responded. “In fact, many of us are miners, farmers, and other occupational workers. There is no nobility here. We are one in the same.”

“And we can be reelected,” Barth confirmed. “As can the chief.”

“There has to be some sort of segregation,” Micah insisted, leaning forward. His head spun and he felt lightheaded from the spices in the air. “Perhaps not social segregation, as you’ve been careful to establish equal footing among all, but something else that creates conflict.”

He knew there were radicals here.

He knew the Terra Kingdom was not as perfect as they boasted. They were, however, far better off than the mess in Concordia.

“Revolutionists versus traditionalists,” Gaia responded, drawing Micah’s attention. “The Terra Kingdom will always find themselves torn between adhering with traditions and trying to revolutionize.” She suddenly stood up, halting any more comments on the subject. “I’d very much like a dance with you, Prince Ezra,” she intoned hypnotically.

Micah stared stupidly.

Heres suddenly clapped him on the back, urging him to stand. “There you go, boy. Mingle. Have fun. Take advantage of our hospitality tonight. I’ll keep your uncle busy.”

The god-possessed woman took Micah by the hand and pulled him from the platform. Excuses and rejections were at the tip of his tongue, but he found himself speechless. He could do little without appearing ungrateful or unlikeable.

“Something tells me you experience the opposite predicament of my people,” Gaia observed as she led him to the dance floor. “You are a revolutionist, but you’re desperately trying to understand and respect traditions of those around you.” A few strands of curly hair fell in her face as she stopped at the edge of the dance floor.

Micah observed her closely, choosing to remain silent.

She continued to encircle his wrist with her fingers, an incredibly improper touch. He didn’t pull away from her, not particularly uptight about customs on how to treat royalty. Somewhere over his shoulder, Conway Edlen was sure to be an uptight bundle of nerves.

“You’re out of place. Not quite whole, but rather two opposing halves.” She blinked slowly. “It must be a lonely existence.”

“I find it impossible to be lonely when constantly surrounded.” He glanced at the dancers. “Sometimes I welcome solitude.”

“Solitude and loneliness are two different things, Ezra.”

He wasn’t about to argue with her on that particular reasoning. Yes, they were opposing sentiments. He’d felt both. Experienced both. He cared little for defeatism, but rather chose to keep his mind and body distracted.

“I hope you don’t mind waiting until the next dance begins,” she said mysteriously, sharing a significant nod with a musician across the room. “Although it would please me to see you jumping around senselessly with my people, this next dance will please Josiah.”

“Josiah? Or the fire god?” Micah inquired casually.

He kept his eyes forward, but felt Gaia’s hasty scrutiny. “So you know.” Her tone was warily pleased. “I’d wanted to speak with you during your last visit, but upon encountering you, I knew you were ignorant to your surroundings.”

“Ignorant or purposely blindfolded,” Micah countered. “I don’t recall seeing you—Gaia—during my last visit. I think I’d remember.”

She offered a closed-mouth smile. “Your eyes are like crystals.”

His eyebrows furrowed upon the peculiar remark, but quickly put the pieces together. “You’re the little boy,” he accused quietly. Finally turning away from the rambunctious dancers, he offered her his full attention. “But why? Why possess one so young?”

“Because he was diagnosed with a condition that would have ended his life as an infant. My possession is gradually regenerating his body. It’s the least I could do.” Her green eyes sparkled with old wisdom and a hint of mischievousness. “After all, his parents prayed for his life. They prayed to _me._ ”  

The music came to a gradual halt and Gaia tugged him onto the dance floor. Considering the hand around his wrist was unyielding and dominant, he followed with as much restraint and control as he could manage. Finally, as her fingers opened up around his wrist, Micah stood freely. Only, he felt the walls around him fall away without her support. Standing in the middle of the floor, under the watchful eyes of dozens of spectators, he gazed at her with sudden comprehension.

“Prithvi,” he intoned, confidently identifying her as the earth goddess.

One of the Big Four.

Gaia—Prithvi—tipped back her head and laughed delightedly. “Aren’t you a quick one?” Her laughter died. “I hope that means you’re just as capable learning dances quickly. Several Igni customs influenced many of our own traditions. This next dance was well-known amongst Igni nobility.”

“And you want to dance to this specifically because it will strike a sentimental chord within Josiah?” Micah inquired mockingly.

“Nonsense.” Something flickered in her eyes. “I just enjoy this one.”     

Micah was certain her reasons were far more complex than simple preference. Perhaps it was because Agni could no longer identify with a culture of rich traditions. Mortal traditions, of course, but traditions nonetheless. It was her vindictive way of reminding him of his weakening power base. Even the heir to his lost kingdom wouldn’t know how to properly execute a long-aged tradition.

When the music began, she curtsied like a proper lady, contrary to her revealing clothing that suggested she was anything but _proper_ or a _lady._

Anything but _mortal,_ really.

Micah stood stiffly for a moment, allowing the beginning notes to wash over him. The feelings accompanying the music were painful and brought with it an odd sensation in his gut. The music transported him to a memory long ago.

A sweltering room, stale with sweat, heat, and anguish. A gentle humming, on note, only broken during necessary intakes of air. Familiar hands touched him, guided him gracefully. Over time, guiding hands transformed into the hands of a following partner.

A bittersweet memory.  

Returning to the present, Micah gathered his partner and swept her across the floor with graceful simplicity. It did not matter if his partner was different this time. It was still the same steps. Still the same rhythm hummed with broken, haunted notes.

“You know the dance,” she observed neutrally.

“My mother taught me,” he replied just as impartially.  

She followed his lead, unsurprisingly keeping up with the fast-paced waltz. “Don’t look so upset, Prince Ezra,” she chastised. “I only want to poke him just a little, but it is endearing you want to protect Agni’s pride.”

“Hardly,” Micah argued, nearly recoiling at the mere _idea_ of defending Agni’s pride. “It’s my own pride I want to protect. I don’t particularly enjoy being a pawn between Josiah and his enemies.”

Gaia watched him thoughtfully, her demeanor dimming and turning serious. “You don’t need to be on the defensive with me, young one. Yet, it is understandable, considering what the gods have put you through.” 

“But you’re not upset about the god eater who woke from his slumber,” he observed.

During the attack on the capital, Varuna and Vayu were both vocal about their displeasure while Agni and Prithvi’s absence was deafening. He understood why Agni wasn’t involved, but he did not understand Prithvi’s position.

“I’m intrigued.”

“Intrigued,” he repeated incredulously.

Others joined them on the dance floor, though the two were unaware of their surroundings. They missed the gazes of appreciation and interest, as well as Heres’ rather blatant gestures towards their dancing forms.  

“Intrigued,” she said again. “With the sudden appearance of the god eater, it brought attention to many of us that Agni had dwelled in the mortal realm for much longer than typical. Dwelled around a specific individual. Agni has never shown interest in a mortal before.”

Micah stiffened. “Oh?”

“Oh, indeed,” Prithvi replied pleasantly. “We are all interested. Jealous, maybe. Agni is a very elusive god and does not play well with others.” She paused. “You possess beauty, yes, but Agni has never been deterred by beauty.”

Micah would have _thought…_ No.

There had to have been other mortals. Others humans the fire god had taken an interest in. Prithvi just wasn’t aware.

“And whomever you are to him was so vital that he willingly put his people through a losing war just to get you.” She hummed in her throat. “I am sure Agni has his reasons, reasons we will not be privy to until too late.”

Micah stiffened and missed a step, his gut twisting with dread. Denial. “Josiah did not willingly allow his people to lose.”

“Can you not address him by name?”

He controlled himself, pushed away his unease, and continued to perform the dance with proper and articulate steps He refused to believe Agni would ever put his people through a war just to get _him._ What was the point? Prithvi appeared to be a mischievous conniver. She seemed as if she caused trouble just to create waves. Micah would not—could not— hold her word in such high regard.

“I prefer not to indulge him.”

She seemed pleased. “I see my desire to poke Agni was untoward when he has _you_ keeping him on his toes.”

He didn’t like the way she looked at him. The way she spoke. As if he were some kind of deity himself, able to stand beside her and Josiah with equal might. Because he wasn’t. He was a weak, vulnerable human who would not stand a chance against a god. He certainly wasn’t someone to keep Agni on his toes, nor someone who would defend the man’s pride.

Micah wasn’t any of those things.

He didn’t _want_ to be.

“His interests in me stem for purely political purposes. Nothing more.”

“Yet he watches you constantly. Even now, his scrutiny is unwavering.” Prithvi’s lips quirked humorlessly. “A god wanting a mortal for mere political purposes would not be so openly perturbed by others touching said mortal. Gods are greedy. _Agni_ is territorial.” 

Micah nearly stumbled as she forcibly pulled him from their dance and towards the exit. They swam through the crowd of dancers and away from the platform. Men and women turned, watching them go. Their expressions rapt, focused.

“So territorial, in fact, that I purposely chose to intervene between you and Gaia,” Prithvi stated. “I do not want him focused on her for any reason.”

“You’re protective of her,” Micah observed, trying to change the topic away from Josiah. “One could argue that is also showing favoritism over a mortal.”

“I love my people. I have never claimed otherwise. It is Agni who is stepping to a new tune by cloaking a mortal with his presence.” She paused. “He’s shielding you, but truly, it is only drawing more attention.”

She led him out into the halls and Micah nearly collapsed in relief from the fresh air. His nostrils, stained with spice residue, greedily inhaled to clear his head. Between the spices, the absinthe, and Prithvi’s exotic presence, his vision swung. Carefully, he twisted his wrist from her grasp. Instead of following behind, he met her stride. He was not a dog.

“Is that your intention tonight? To warn me?”

Gaia, appearing taken aback at Micah’s insistence to walk on his own, recovered and led him out onto an open balcony. The air was even fresher here and far more breathtaking.

His eyes rose, taking in the inky black sky.

The stars were _incredible._

“I can warn you about a great deal of things regarding the god who has chosen to infiltrate your life.” Gaia leaned against the railing. “But we both know Agni has his plans and will see them come to fruition. My warnings mean nothing.” 

Lowering his eyes from the sky to her face, Micah believed she was overcomplicating matters. Josiah had his own plans, indeed, but Micah did not stand in the center of them.

“Then what are your intentions tonight?” he asked icily.

“Can’t I get to know you?” Prithvi smiled mysteriously. “I wanted to see the man who was responsible for upsetting Varuna and Vayu. The one with the ability to release a god eater from slumber.”     

She took a step closer to him. Most women dressed in this kingdom showed far more skin than the women of Concordia. As such, he was more than aware of Gaia using it to her advantage. Exuding an air of seduction, she saddled up close to him, running a hand down his arm. His eyes dropped further, gazing at her long neck and the outline of her ample chest. Her skin was so flawless. So open for marking.

“Have you ever been with a woman before, Ezra?”

Despite himself, Micah’s lips twitched as he read her intentions. “Unfortunately, yes,” he responded candidly.

She leaned even closer. “Not a girl, but an experienced woman?”

Micah laughed under his breath and placed a hand on her head, resisting the urge to pet her mockingly. “I’d be far more tempted if it was Gaia propositioning. As such, I find little allure in gods. Especially gods who just want to get a rise out of other gods.”

The figure in question calmly walked from the palace and out onto the terrace.

Prithvi appeared mildly put off. “It’s like interacting with a mortal version of yourself, Agni.” She turned to face Josiah. “I imagine that was your objective.”

She had no idea…

Josiah hardly appeared amused. “Or perhaps you simply give yourself too much credit in terms of your seduction charisma.” Josiah’s eyes narrowed. “You only seem to succeed with virgins.” 

Despite the insult, Prithvi’s lips twitched as she glanced at an immobile Micah. “But he is a virgin. He’s been with women and men surely, but never a god. Regrettably, I imagine you’d be the one to break him in.”

Micah bristled, not over the content, but the sheer disregard.  He was the center of their conversation, yes, but he was not present. It was what he imagined it to be like in the presence of two gods. Invisibility. Micah knew it wouldn’t—shouldn’t—be any other way. These entities were immortal and they had histories together he could only fathom. He felt irrelevant. Belittled. A mere insect.

While he understood it had to be this way, that didn’t mean he liked it.

His gaze did not waver from Prithvi. She must have read something from his expression, for her spite faltered and turned contemplative. A deep frown settled between her vessel’s eyebrows. “You’re an ice Elemental,” she stated suspiciously. “As of now, there are no ice gods.”

“Mind yourself, Prithvi,” Josiah warned disdainfully. 

Ignoring him, she pressed onward. “I always believed Varuna would be your opposite. But what is more opposite of fire than ice?” A sly leer curled the edges of her mouth. “You’ve always enjoyed a challenge.”

The leer disappeared suddenly, however, and her eyes grew distant. She gazed at Micah with dawning realization. Something unnerving seemed to occur to her, for her breath caught. All taunting was gone as she stumbled across an unsettling understanding. “Mind _yourself,_ Agni,” she whispered. “The others will not tolerate it.”

Micah turned accusing eyes on to Josiah. “What is she implying, exactly?”

Prithvi exhaled softly and her expression cleared. “I am implying nothing. Simply speculating.”

“You are entirely delusional and fanatical,” Josiah insulted. “Such a mind frame cannot logically _speculate._ ” 

“We all go a little insane, brother,” she countered calmly. “It’s why we need others to ground us from time to time, no? There is no shame. Especially for ones as ancient as us.” 

Prithvi gathered her skirt in one hand and made to depart.

On her way past, her fingers reached out to linger across Micah’s cheek. Her open candor and admiration was enough to stop him from rearing away. “My brother and I may seem at odds, but we work well together,” she informed. “If the other gods give you trouble, we’ll give them just as much resistance. Call out to me if you need my help. Something tells me you’re going to need it.”  

Here, she looked at Josiah coldly.  

Without another word, she removed herself from the terrace.

Micah leaned against the balcony railing and stared at Josiah. The man stared back just as silently, no doubt clammed up and unwilling to divulge in Prithvi’s delusions _._

Micah didn’t want to know.

He had his suspicions of what she was implying, but he did not _want to know._

Reaching up with both hands, Micah rubbed his temples, marveling in the silence. The clear air. The isolation. “Can we leave now?” he asked. “Heres received the bodies and would rather drink and smoke than speak of Noir User sanctions.”

Josiah said he’d take lead during this visit, but it felt as if he’d allowed Micah to take the reins. As such, he felt as if he’d failed. He let Chief Heres rule and dictate the evening. They’d hardly spoke about anything imperative.

His impaired vision only allowed him to see the shoes nearing his slumped figure. It did not surprise him when a hand raked through his hair. Josiah forcibly pulled his head from out of his hands and practically arched him backward over the railing.

“Are you tired, child?”

Micah, with his neck straining backward from Josiah’s ministrations, could conjure up little defiance and trusted the man to keep him from toppling over the balcony. “Exhausted,” he replied simply, unabashedly.

Orange eyes assessed him silently. Surprisingly, a scathing remark did not come. Instead, Josiah leaned forward and pressed his face close to Micah’s neck. He inhaled. Slowly, his lips traced up his throat, the act oddly intimate and tender.

Light.

Once the lips finished tracing the edge of his jawline, Josiah hovered above his mouth. Micah anticipated the kiss, unsure whether he wanted it or just succumbed to the idea. Rather unexpectedly, Josiah bypassed his mouth entirely and chose to press his lips against the crown of Micah’s head instead. Chaste and incredibly unlike Josiah.

“Then we shall leave and you can retire on the train.” Josiah carefully pulled him back over the railing. “Let us first bid our gracious hosts a farewell.”

Micah followed the man from the balcony without protest.

Sometimes it was just easier to let things run their course.

 

 


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably the first and only time Ezra does not make an appearance in a chapter... although he is mentioned so many times he might as well be in it.

**15\. Chapter Fifteen**

 

****“You support his existence.”

The young boy remained facing away from him. Innocent and juvenile hums escaped the young boy’s throat as he carefully arranged a basket of wildflowers. His dark, small fingers curled around the thin stems and entwined them elaborately around one another. Thick lashes pressed against his plump, healthy cheeks as he paid singular attention on his creation, not at all concerned with Dushyanta standing at his unprotected back. And why should he be concerned?

The earth goddess would easily conquer Dushyanta.

“I consider your failure to act a betrayal,” Dushyanta pressed heatedly. “Certainly you realize just what he is.”

The hums gradually came to a stop. “As I told Agni and young Ezra,” the boy started softly, “I have my assumptions. Nothing is concrete. Nothing should be concrete for you and the others either.”

“He raised a god eater from slumber!”

“Something you should be hunting for instead of decrying foul.”

“You know just as well as I do that most of us do not have the ability to take care of a Syphon. Let alone put it back to sleep!” Dushyanta shook his head. “Agni’s _mortal pet_ grabbed hold of a god! What more proof do you need?” He sneered. “ _Ice,_ Prithvi. Ice. It cannot be a coincidence. You know this to be true.”

“Fire and ice are mirror images of each other,” Prithvi responded softly. “Agni is lonesome.”

Dushyanta laughed cruelly, unbelieving. Agni was never _lonely._ The god spent eternity lingering in the shadows. “I cannot believe she created him. For Agni, you say? Clearly, Agni must know what the boy is. That thought alone should frighten every god and goddess to their very core. Agni has never interfered with any sort of dispute before. To know he’s in the middle of all this, sheltering and protecting the boy, makes me think he has ill intentions. It will not end well.”

The young boy stilled.

Slowly, the boy’s head turned and green eyes, wise beyond their years, pierced through Dushyanta. “If what you say is true, I caution you, Dushyanta. You would do well to leave Agni alone. We do not know all the facts. Give the boy a _chance._ Rallying behind Agni’s back will undoubtedly lead to your demise. Do not think you can defeat him.”

“I firmly believe in getting rid of a threat before it takes root and grows more powerful,” Dushyanta said firmly. “Agni is all but feeding the boy, nurturing and cultivating him into power. If his purpose isn’t what I think it is, _why_ was he born a mortal first? Deities are created in our realm.”

Prithvi sighed and turned back around to the basket of wildflowers.

“Varuna and Vayu suspect and they are displeased with the implications. No matter how much it lacks _concrete_ evidence.” Dushyanta took a step forward. “They are also hoping to destroy the boy before he develops fully.”

“Very good for you, Dushyanta,” Prithvi replied. “But do not readily assume Vayu and Varuna would turn against their brother so quickly. You may just find yourself standing alone, facing Agni’s infamous temper by your lonesome. I have already warned you once. That will be the extent of my assistance.”

“You’re a fool.”

The ground beneath his feet trembled, resonating deeply and creating an unnerving wail of warning.

“Get off my territory, Dushyanta.”

Dushyanta snarled before turning intangible and leaving the stubborn earth goddess behind.

 

*** * * ***

 

It was the waiting game. The baited breath of suspense and the beginnings of establishing careful control. Considering Seaton and Muriel actively erased a good portion of her social calendar, she would still make Sachiel wait until she deemed it an appropriate time. Cordelia hadn’t changed, Sachiel thought, amused despite himself.

Such a strong-willed woman in a society full of overgrown male egos.

Sachiel did not care much on the matter of women and their continued struggle with equal standings. Nor did he understand it. After all, they _were_ the weaker gender, the most vulnerable sex. Granted, they had strengths that men did not possess. Those strengths were childrearing and domestic affairs.

From personal experience, Sachiel knew some women could not even succeed in that aspect _._ Quite frankly, they could not hope to keep up with men in terms of physical prowess and even political savviness. Asking men to view them as equals was outrageously inane.

There were exceptions, of course.

Exceptions that had garnered Sachiel’s respect.

Mira, for example, was a seasoned warrior. A non-Elemental who kept up with notorious male fighters. She was remarkable with both the staff and sword and had seemingly passed on that particular trait to her fiercely independent daughter—Talia. Cordelia was another woman who had ruthlessly made a name for herself. Her expertise was not that of a battle warrior, but rather a political warrior. Possessing lethal savviness, many amongst the court could not hope to match her grace.

“I can’t remember the last time you called on me, Sachiel.”

He turned away from the mantle and appraised Cordelia. Standing in the doorway of the parlor, she was dressed as immaculately as always. She was ready for combat, he noted, looking at her defiant jaw and smug eyes.

“Cordelia, always a pleasure.” Sachiel bowed to the woman of the house. “Thank you for accepting my call this afternoon.”

“After hearing about your public humiliation, I couldn’t turn away the opportunity to gloat,” she replied pleasantly. “The golden warrior finally finds himself tarnished and superfluous. Eyes will no longer overlook your true character, but rather put it in question.”

“One could argue my usefulness, like yours, is no longer relevant.”

“Relevancy is often subjected.” Cordelia lifted a brow. “I find myself still relevant.”

“Relevant, yes, but to an entirely different cause,” Sachiel countered. “Your absence amongst the elite indicates most would consider you _irrelevant_.”

Cordelia and Sachiel surveyed the other with quiet disdain and bitter amusement. While they were both members of the Royal Council, it had been years since they held a private conversation. Decades, really. The last time Sachiel called on Cordelia, he’d needed her the most. Only, she’d rejected his hand and scorned him like so many before her.

She’d wanted promises.

Promises he couldn’t possibly give her at the time.

Her observation was sharp, intelligent, and it put Sachiel’s teeth on edge. “And so we broach the element of voluntary irrelevancy,” she responded with a pleased upturn to her lips. “I had a chance to align myself with Seaton and Muriel. Having the prince over for one dinner hardly constitutes automatic dismissal.” 

“You are suggesting that you willingly turned your back on political security?”

Cordelia offered a ghost of a smile at his skepticism. The lines around her eyes were faint, but present. Her skin was no longer luminous with youth and vibrancy, but rather lined with hard experience and wisdom. She was older. Time was just as much her enemy as any other, yet she was still beautiful.

_Stunning._

“I have reached a point in my life where I no longer need a political platform.” She moved away from the door and ventured further into the parlor.

Her husband’s parlor.

Besides the dust-collecting memorabilia of a painful war, there was no sign of Trent Abital. The old warrior did not particularly like politics, never had. Sachiel knew, like any good solider, he’d follow his commander willingly. And Cordelia was very much the commander of the Abital household. She would have never had such luxury if she’d accepted Sachiel’s hand. She would have been stifled. Oppressed. Not only from Sachiel, but also from his age-old family name that demanded total obedience from the wife.

Perhaps they’d both known such provisions decades ago. Perhaps that was why they’d accepted the pain and parted so tragically.

Resentment might sit heavy on Sachiel every time he looked to her, which had only swelled with each passing year, but he couldn’t be more proud of the accomplishments she’d achieved on her own.

When he’d met her, she’d been such a young, eager flame. Now, it was a challenge to keep up.

“Cain is old enough to protect himself. Trent couldn’t care a less what happens at court.” She sat at the edge of the settee, prim and proper. “And I have obtained the highest position of power a woman could possibly obtain in this kingdom. Besides queen, of course.”

At her motion to sit, Sachiel moved and followed her command. “So you chose to turn your back on the Edlen command?”

“I did,” Cordelia confirmed.

A butler entered the room and deposited a tray of tea and light fare on the low table. Sachiel accepted the cup of tea and savored it for quite some time in silence. Cordelia would offer an explanation when she was ready, not a second sooner.

“Calder will not always be here to represent the old ways,” she started firmly. “I’m unnerved just like the rest of them. Unnerved that my nobility status will become insignificant. Their fear is entirely reasonable over a crowned child who is half Unda and half Igni.” 

Sachiel smiled predatorily, keeping his attentions on the small spoon in his grasp. “Then what made you willingly turn your back on Seaton? Surely Ezra did not charm you to the point of blind allegiance with just one dinner?”

“I’m certain he charmed _you_ in just one glance, Sachiel. No dinner necessary.”

He looked up at her then, slow and unaffected. “I don’t deny it.”

“Of course you don’t. He is the embodiment of all your collective weaknesses. Beauty, danger, and he possess entirely too much defiance.”

“Which makes my fall from grace far more bearable when he stands at the bottom,” Sachiel responded neutrally. “You’re forgetting power, my dear. He has that in spades. A quiet little beast until poked. It truly is a spectacle to witness.”

She did not respond to that. Her silence was consensus enough. She’d heard the rumors, after all. Her posture was stiff and controlled as she stirred her tea. Sachiel observed her taunt features, knowing she did not enjoy being in his company. A sentiment that he shared with equal ferocity, yet they were both civil enough to understand the necessity of this meeting.

“You haven’t told me why you are willing to abandon your podium for Ezra.”

Cordelia looked up at him sharply. “Is it necessary I discuss my reasons?”

Sachiel clucked his tongue, impatient. “The prince has very few allies, Cordelia. Moving forward, it will be essential that we have a mutual trust if we want to lead his alliance.” He immediately noticed her wary amusement. “I said mutual trust. Not mutual amiability.”

She knew, just as much as he, that Ezra needed them both if he wanted to stand a chance. _Varuna,_ they both knew they needed each other to stay above water. Following behind Ezra was a sacrifice. Currently, it meant social suicide.

They sat in silence for quite some time as Cordelia calculated her response. Her reluctance to say anything until she properly analyzed it was a trait Sachiel appreciated. Most said things uncensored, unchecked. Cordelia was careful and she was selective. “You mentioned you were just as unnerved as the others over the prospect of Ezra banishing nobility and family honor,” Sachiel said. “Yet here you are.”

“There is a difference between oppression and unification.” Cordelia set down her tea. “Both actions offer several various advantages and disadvantages. Seaton and Muriel have chosen to oppress the prince.”

Sachiel’s gaze sharpened when he pieced together her intentions.  “You think you can persuade Ezra to keep the Unda elite if you are friendly allies.” He didn’t know what he felt about that. It was certainly political, certainly deceptive. Entirely understandable.

She would stand by the prince only if he promised her something in return. Retain the Unda social hierocracy. Work together to somehow keep the nobility. And she would offer her full support. It was what Seaton and Muriel should have attempted in the beginning. Instead, they decided to work behind the scenes, disassociating themselves from the crown. Granted, they would present polite masks to both Calder and Ezra, but they’d be creating chaos while simultaneously keeping their hands clean.  

“Do not misunderstand me,” Cordelia started. “There is corruption in the Unda nobility. Corruption that needs annihilation. Moreover, I have always sympathized with the Igni people. They’ve been subdued for far too long.”

“Suppressed too long that they—”

“Are going to react soon.”

They observed the other.

“We’d be fools if we believed Josiah sat on his hands and heeled to Calder this long without scheming. The Igni people are grossly mistreated. It won’t be long until there is a war within the walls of Concordia.”

Sachiel inclined his head in agreement. While Unda was victorious during the war, they’d lost so many. Despite appearances, they haven’t recovered yet from the brutal damage Igni inflicted. “The Igni people will pause over the prospect of Ezra sitting on the throne. Having him hold the crown will give us time.”

“Time we would have never possessed if Ladon were the heir.” 

They understood each other on that aspect, then.

Cordelia offer a small sigh. “Nonetheless, the time Ezra grants us may not be long. The Igni nobles are still very much in support of Josiah reestablishing the throne.”

That made Sachiel pause. “Lord Josiah has publically reinstated his support of Ezra time and time again,” he said. “It’s clear he wants his people to support his nephew.”

“I do not trust Lord Josiah.”

“Nor should you,” Sachiel agreed. “Yet I trust him with Ezra’s life.”

“Ezra’s _life_ is not in question at this time, Sachiel,” Cordelia contradicted calmly. “While Josiah exudes an entitlement over Ezra’s safety, that does not mean he will hold back his people if there was an uprising.”

“And the Igni nobles, those on council, still see Lord Josiah as king?”

“They are not Ezra’s allies just yet. Josiah is still remarkably young and he is in his prime. He’s a reflection of their old glory. Perhaps if Josiah and Ezra were to announce their betrothal, the Igni people would bend. As it were, the rumor is that Ezra renounced nuptial ties with him.”

“Such a union would be meaningless, even if they are Chosen.” Sachiel shook his head, partially entertained. No. Truly, he was _greatly_ entertained at the irony. He’d convinced Ezra to renounce his ties with Josiah, after all. It appeared as if that decision were coming back to bite him several times these past few days. “They cannot produce an heir. There would be no indemnity.”

“On the contrary, it is what the Igni people have begun to expect upon the revelation that Josiah and Ezra are Chosen. Surrogates can produce an heir, Sachiel. As long as their true king is tied indefinitely with the new ruler, as long as he _is_ the new ruler, they will remain passive.”  

“Two kings…”

“It is extremely unorthodox, yes, yet not too different from our current situation. It is what King Calder thinks he’s projecting by keeping Lord Josiah close and granting him a semblance of power. Two kings. Only, everyone knows it is a ruse. It is not an equal partnership, but rather an attempt to placate.”

“You believe it would be different if it were Ezra and Josiah side by side?”

“I don’t believe, I _know_ it to be true,” Cordelia insisted. She shook her head once. “Royalty bends the rules repeatedly when it comes to social expectations.”

“Not to this extent,” Sachiel murmured quietly. “The Igni people are reaching. Calder would never bless a union between Josiah and Ezra.”

“Don’t be too sure,” Cordelia mused slyly. “Calder wants his people united. It makes his kingdom stronger.” 

Sachiel reclined against the back of the settee and fleetingly touched the bridge of his nose, resisting the urge to rub. It would show a sign of fatigue. He certainly wasn’t fatigued—no—the unknown, the challenge, it all excited him. The prospect, however, of three players in one game was daunting. He’d at least thought the Igni people would support Ezra.

“We have hitched our wagon to a very new and inexperienced stallion, Sachiel. I do hope you are prepared for the work ahead of us.”

“Work?” he inquired disbelievingly. He laughed at her pinched expression, seeing through her, seeing the side she wanted to hide. “My dear, I know you well enough to know you wouldn’t exactly coin this as _work,_ but rather an exciting new thrill. No?”

Her expression revealed nothing. “I would like assurances from the prince.” She paused deliberately. “We’ve made the move to support him. This is not a one-sided alliance.”

“The prince is in no position to give us assurances,” Sachiel responded quickly. He recognized that his relationship with Ezra gave him the upper hand in his current conversation. “He is not even crowned.”

“Then convince him to be crowned quickly, Sachiel.”

He regarded her for a moment, discerning the stubbornness around her mouth. Like most politicians, Cordelia wanted just as much as she gave. Unfortunately, she’d never dealt with royalty on such an intimate level.  “You’re a fool if you think this will be an alliance based off equilibrium.” He leaned forward and offered a sharp smile. “It never will be. No matter what innocent guise he wears, he is still much like the members of his family. He will always pull your strings, Cordelia. You _must_ recognize that. You are his puppet.”

“I’m not assuming to be on level ground as the prince,” she countered fiercely. “I am asking for his public support and his public sympathy. Other perspective allies will want the same thing. I will not dance for him and gather allies if he cannot guarantee me that much.”

Sachiel leaned back and shook his head, tickled at her righteousness.

She wanted something she could never obtain.

A coddling and friendly crown. A fiercely loyal crown.

Even though Ezra was a distinctive and rather green royal, he was learning. His very pores were open, absorbing the political game and the political deceit with impressive haste. With Josiah whispering into his ear, with Ember raising him, he possessed the natural Igni astuteness.

Even so, Sachiel knew Cordelia enough to understand the draw Ezra offered. She would most likely appreciate Ezra, not for his status, but for his unique personality. Despite the corruption Ezra grew up with, the boy was rather pure. Granted, he possessed an unmistakable shadow of danger, something that warned away potential enemies.

However, there was also a sense of protection. Ezra would go through great lengths to protect those he deemed under his care. That trait alone would sway many, would endear many. They’d all clamber over each other to have the opportunity of Ezra _seeing_ them. 

Sachiel crossed his legs and deliberated his words carefully. “Before we go to him with _demands_ , it is essential we give him convictions as a unified front.” He caught and held her eyes. “Convictions of who his allies are for certain, who his perspective allies are, and where, exactly, is his right-hand man.”

Cordelia absorbed his words. “Kai Edlen is in Region 5.”

Sachiel’s’ gaze sharpened. Not only at Kai’s whereabouts, but rather Cordelia’s intuition to identify the prince’s loyal hand. “Oh?”

“The last I heard—rumors—have indicated that he _voluntarily_ agreed to attend boarding school under Seaton’s orders.” Cordelia dropped her gaze and stirred her tea. Her mouth pursed. “Evidently, Seaton threatened disownment if he did not accept the relocation.”

“That does not sound like Kai. He would never accept Seaton’s terms.”

“You know him better than I, Sachiel. I am just telling you what I’ve heard through the grapevine.”

The military academy in Region 5 was especially dour. Good facilities, yes, but it was a guarded community where Seaton would succeed in reigning in his son. Sachiel had no power, no connections in Region 5’s military academy. It was a strict schooling with little leeway for open visits. Nonetheless, he’d find a way to contact Kai.

Cordelia dropped the pretense of caring for her afternoon tea. “The dismissal of both you and Lord Josiah from the academy worries me.” She levelled him with a look. “Should we be concerned for our children?”

More specifically, Ezra’s team.

“Do you truly believe Edlen will escalate past public humiliation and sabotage?”

Cordelia stood from the settee, forcing Sachiel to follow her lead out of age-old etiquette. He sensed the shift of her demeanor, sensing the urgency. The flames from the fireplace rebounded across the dark parlor, creating deep and disquieting shadows across the walls. A shadow, not cast by the fire, but rather of impending turmoil, wavered across Cordelia’s expression. 

“I have doubts he would, Sachiel. But those doubts alone make me uncertain.” She cupped her hands in front of her. “Things may take a dour turn. We need to be prepared to weather the storm if that is the case.”

“We will warn the families of Ezra’s team and let them make their decision on whether to withdraw their son or daughter.” He paused. “We can gauge their willingness to serve and support the prince at that time.”

She inclined her head, but said nothing further.

Recognizing he had reached the end of his welcome, Sachiel bowed. “Thank you for tolerating my company, Cordelia. As always, it was a pleasure.” As he nearly escaped from the parlor, her voice called out behind him.

“What is it that _you_ want in return, Sachiel?”

Smiling down the long, empty corridor, Sachiel exhaled levelly. She wanted his candor, just as he’d requested of her. A fair enough trade, he supposed. However, it was such a weighty question. After all, he wanted many things from Ezra. Without turning, he responded. “My honor restored.”

“Can such honor be restored when the means to destroy it were honest and sincere?”

 “I have done nothing wrong.”

“Your wife would have said otherwise.”

The silence after her comment was heavy with ghostly torment and memories turned sour. If Sachiel inhaled, he could smell his wife’s perfume, soiled and tainted with the coppery smell of cold and drying blood.

He tilted his head, utterly unfazed. “That she would, my dear.”  

His late wife accompanied him down the corridor and stayed with him long into the night. He hoped she envied him from the confinements of her rotting grave.

 

*** * * ***

 

“It must be nice. Being a water Elemental. You would never go thirsty.”

Kai prodded his food with a fork. It was some type of southern cuisine. Spicy. Red. His pallet was not accustomed with the food, though he’d especially enjoyed the spicy noodles on his trip with Egan between terms. His empty stomach certainly had no qualms about what he put down his throat, so long as it had substance.   

“What makes you certain I’m a water Elemental?” he asked carefully.

“Are you not?”

Sweat slid down his temple as he gazed across the table at her. His hair, while cut short, still gathered a pool of moisture at the hairline near the nape of his neck. His body was uncomfortably warm. Getting out from the sun and underground hadn’t seemed to help matters.

The woman—Ember—watched him lazily over her own plate of untouched food. Something about her was familiar. No matter how often he stole long, considering gazes at her face, he couldn’t identify the nagging sensation. Her scarred flesh captivated him and pulled even more persistently at his memory.

“I’m just as much a water Elemental as you are a fire Elemental,” he responded. It was just a hunch. A guess. If a fire Elemental scarred her face, there must have been a reason. She couldn’t have been defenseless.

“You caught me,” she replied with little surprise at his intuition. “Are you going to tell me how a blueblood noble found himself stranded in the outmost regions of Concordia?”

“Family,” Kai answered bitterly. “Call it a test of family loyalty.”  

He looked up, catching her bright amber eye. A smile creased her lips, but otherwise, her gaze stayed sharp, emotionless. There was _something_ about her… Kai felt almost unnerved as though something _else_ watched him through her eyes. She went through the motions of someone who had emotions, yet Kai couldn’t help but feel a prickling sensation that this woman was… empty.

An empty husk.

“More?” Ember pointed to his plate. “I made plenty.”

Not knowing when his next meal would be, Kai nodded his consent and pushed his plate in her direction. “Please.”

As she busied herself over the incredibly small wood stove, Kai unabashedly examined her. His attention focused on her nose, pert and small. Unruly, dark waves curled around ears that were just as proportionally small as her nose. It reminded him of Egan. After vigorous training with the team, Kai recalled Micah’s hair curling haphazardly around similarly petite ears.

Kai shifted, watching her suspiciously.

_Ember._

As she turned back around to deposit the full plate of food in front of him, Kai got an eyeful of ghostly resemblance to Micah. Coupled with Calder’s more masculine traits, the resemblance was uncanny. Even the wrinkled flesh on the side of her face resembled the wrinkled flesh across Micah’s palms. 

That persistence in the back of his head finally soothed with the revelation.

“When did your son leave?” Kai asked.

He looked down at the dark robe she provided him earlier. To fit in with Region 20. Her son’s, she’d said. It was a desert robe, a piece of clothing meant to be large. Yet the chest and arms were a bit snug and the length was a bit too short for him.

A smaller man. Egan’s size.

It reeked of fire, he noted.

“It feels like forever ago, but it hasn’t even been a full year.” Ember touched her plate, as if contemplating if she should eat. “It is a lot quieter without him.”

“I can imagine,” Kai replied stiffly.

The way she held herself was painfully noble. Kai recognized it earlier, but hadn’t truly considered the possibility she was his long lost queen. Why would he? Those at the capital never mentioned Ember. Even _Egan_ never spoke of his mother. The palace indicated Ember passed away, yet it was unsurprising to see her here, alive.

It was almost too much of a coincidence that he’d run into her.

Of all people…

Kai glanced down at the food, uncertainty pulling at him once more.

Egan was entitled to his secrets. Varuna knew Kai had his own things he kept quiet. Usually, however, Kai was patient enough to uncover the things Micah held so privately by carefully prodding. Nevertheless, the prince’s childhood—his mother _—_ wasn’t a topic Kai unearthed. Gleams into his destitute childhood, yes, but never Ember. Before the palace indicated Ezra was relocated for his own safety as a child, with Ember in tow, speculations spoke of the queen kidnapping Ezra.

Something told Kai those speculations probably weren’t far from the truth, considering the disfigurement across the queen’s face. Lord Josiah probably engaged her in battle at the time. She was still here, in Region 20, because she would not be welcomed back. Instead, the palace announced her passing. Region 20 probably recognized who she was, yet they were loyal enough to her bloodline to remain tightlipped to her whereabouts.

What a sad existence.

“He’s doing well,” Kai informed tensely. “Ezra.”

Ember placed down her fork, forgoing her decision to eat. “You are a bright boy.”

_Obviously._ Kai hid a smirk at his pompousness and picked up his own fork. “You mentioned, back at the market, that you wanted to know about the on goings at the capital. I imagine you meant Ezra specifically.”

“He prefers Micah.”

Kai resisted the temptation to scowl. He knew that. He knew _Egan_ better than most. “Most address him as Ezra now,” he corrected superiorly. “The king is aware of his presence. As is Lord Josiah. Surely word has spread here by now that the missing prince has returned.”

“I have the ability to listen to capital gossip, yes.”

Something moved behind him.

Kai whirled around in his chair, watching a figure dart down the corridor. “There are other people living here?”

“Oh yes.” He turned back around to catch her uncanny smile. “It’s a labyrinth of guesthouses, if you will.”

“Ezra lived here?”

“One similar to this. Our previous home experienced a large fire and remains uninhabitable.”

Kai, on edge, gazed at his dim surroundings. Grim. Tiny. Cramped. Underground. Egan feared being underground in dark, small spaces. This was nothing but a nest—a burrow—of old, stale air. He couldn’t see the prince here. Or anything remotely similar to his current surroundings. During his travels with Egan, when they reached the outer regions, they’d stayed underground. However, their dwellings weren’t this deplorable.

“You must know the other inhabitants well if you leave your door open.”

Ember appeared lazily amused. “We’re not strangers.” She tapped a finger against the table and a spark appeared. Bright. Malicious. “Besides, I can take care of myself.”

Kai focused on the orange flame that quickly extinguished. “I suppose you can.”

She reminded him of Lord Josiah. Serpentine, clever, and entirely shroud in uneasy mystery. Kai didn’t believe this woman possessed a single maternal fiber in her body. If she did, he saw no evidence of it now. 

“Are you going to finish your food?”

The hairs on the back of his neck stood and Kai contemplated his position. Despite identifying the woman as Ember, the absent queen of Concordia, the unsettlement inside him hadn’t completely vanished. If anything, it seemed to heighten. He had no evidence she was presenting anything other than what she claimed, yet…

“What did you want to know about Ezra?” He purposely used Egan’s given name to spite her. “Maybe I can sate your curiosity and we can both go back to the capital together?”

Ember’s long hair veiled her face as she laughed almost bashfully. “I apologize,” she started musically.

Her face crinkled youthfully and Kai was taken aback at her near-innocence. He caught a glimpse of what she would have looked like at the end of the Igni and Unda war. Luminous and ripe for King Calder’s taking. Perfect for royalty. An offer of surrender and a gift of peace. As she looked back up, however, that vision was gone.

“I apologize if you believed I wanted to talk about Ezra.” She tucked a strand of unruly hair behind her ear, her single eye hardening. “Instead, I want to learn more about _you_ , Mr. Edlen. Just how did you come to be on such intimate levels with the prince?”  

“We’re ready.”

Kai glanced over his shoulder, spying a man of eastern descent standing in the doorway. Possessing an aura of eeriness, the man appraised Kai through half-lidded eyes.

Deciding to forgo politeness, and heed his instincts, Kai acted.

His fingers curled against the underbelly of the table. He caught the mismatched eyes of Ember before hastily flinging the table at her. As the furniture spiraled in midair, Kai scrambled to his feet, summoning his Element. Water curled around his fingers with loving admiration before he flung it in the direction of his adversary.

The man was unprepared for the onslaught of water. As the Element hit his chest, the man flew across the corridor and slammed into the opposite wall. Kai was already out the door and down the dank underground corridor.

He sprinted, cursing himself for not acting sooner. As soon as he found out he was dealing with Egan’s mother, he should have ran as fast as he could. Every member of the boy’s family was mentally deranged.

Inbred _madness_.

A woman came sprinting towards him, and without hesitating, Kai reached forward, wrapping his Element around her neck. He willed it to turn, snapping her neck immediately. She dropped to the ground in a dead heap.

Leaping over the corpse, Kai remained airborne. Seething, he flailed in the air like an idiot, unable to control gravity. Kai strained his neck, witnessing the man he’d attacked earlier now up and recovered. An air Elemental. The man currently used his Element to keep Kai in the air and off his feet. A scream of rage bellowed from Kai’s lungs and he saw red.

“Temper of an Igni,” Ember stated with cold practicality as she sidled next to the air Elemental. “Careful now. We don’t want you dead. You are far too useful alive.”

Other figures emerged from the shadows, their eyes hollow, and their stances uniform— like soldiers. His unease from earlier bubbled over into trepidation and horror as the woman he’d killed jerked oddly on the ground before standing. Something strangely foreign gripped his mind, chilling it and nearly paralyzing him with fear.

They were not human.

Their eyes nearly smoldered with milky and bright sadism. Kai thrashed. His pulse beat so profoundly, he felt it crawl its way up his throat. The underground trembled as he felt his Elemental rise up around him. He’d rather drown this whole place than let these beasts lay a single hand on his person.

Before the corridors could flood with relentless waters, however, Kai’s attention wavered as a wall of flames jumped towards him. He immediately felt a panic, reminded of his first mission and Wayde’s death, reminded of the stories of the old war.

Fire.

A water Elemental’s number one adversary.

Kai panicked, raising his arm to block himself while sloppily attempting to gather his scattered Element to cloak himself from the Igni attack. Heat, unimaginable heat, ate at his skin enough to chill him.

The scream that escaped his lungs was high-pitched and ugly.

The last thought that ran through his mind was that he never wanted to die ugly.    

 

 


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**16\. Chapter Sixteen**

 

Breathing never seemed so complicated.

Pressing his eyes closed, Micah attempted to concentrate on nothing but inhaling and exhaling. Under his eyelids, he envisioned ice. He willed it. Wanted to force it. It shouldn’t be so challenging to conjure _ice_ when it was _his_ Element!

A finger pressed between his eyebrows. “You’re too angry to conjure.”

Micah opened his eyes, spying Josiah sitting across from him. “I’m not angry.”

Days. Days upon days of being train-bound. Unnerved with his interaction with Josiah and Prithvi at the Terra Kingdom, Micah kept to himself for the long trip to the Eurus Empire. Books preoccupied him most often. Meditating came second. He only escaped his separate personal quarters when it came time to eat. Usually, he got by without lunch. As such, he encountered the personal guards and Josiah only during breakfast and dinner before retreating to his compartment.

Josiah could have followed him easily enough and forced interaction when Micah was alone. Instead, the Igni king surprised him by respecting his silent need for separation.

Until now.

“The crease between your brows and the scowl on your lips suggest otherwise,” the man countered smartly. “Find the issues bothering you, accept them, and then proceed with a clear, focused mind. The purpose of meditation is about going outside your mind and connecting with essential nature.”

Micah scoffed, bitterly amused. “Meditation cannot achieve any sort of conflict resolution _._ Pressing matters need to be resolved through action. Not peaceful contemplation.”

Something humored Josiah greatly. “Far too bitter for one so young.”

Micah closed his eyes once more. “I blame my constant company.”

“Always easier to blame others than to take responsibility.” Josiah paused, no doubt watching Micah as the younger man attempted to tune him out. “What is troubling you so much you cannot even mediate?”

“What is troubling me?” Micah asked with sharp incredibility.

Perhaps it was the fact Kai might be missing. Maybe it was the fear of what state the capital would be in when they returned. After all, the god of enmity was wreaking havoc on the capital just to destroy Micah and his image. Maybe it was the fact that they were on a political tour and their first stop to the Terra Kingdom did not go as anticipated. Or maybe his restlessness was from a fire god and his elusive intentions for Micah. Intentions that made him extremely perturbed. Almost fearful.

He opened his eyes. Over Josiah’s shoulder, the royal guards interacted amongst themselves, settled far too close for comfort. His attention refocused on the Igni royal. “I have far too many things _troubling_ me.”

“But how many of those things can you control?”

Micah’s gaze sharpened. “Is this going to be a life lesson?” he asked with a nearly inaudible whisper. “How can you possibly claim to understand us mere mortals and the dilemma we experience?”

Josiah leaned back and observed Micah thoughtfully. Of course, his observation possessed a hint of superiority.

Always a hint of egotism with Agni.

“I had anticipated anger would be the next step in your discovery of what I am. Denial came first. Acceptance cannot come soon enough.”

Releasing a low hiss of frusteratation, Micah glanced out the window. “You’re referencing the study performed regarding the stages an individual goes through after the death of a loved one.” His bitterness chipped away _._ “There are five stages, not three.”

“I am referring to the three stages after finding out your uncle is a god.”

“Possessed by a god,” Micah corrected pointedly. “And I hadn’t realized they performed a study on that,” he mumbled back, reluctantly amused. In the window, his eyes reflected his hardened acceptance.

“The issues weighing on your conscious cannot be controlled at the present.” Josiah continued their previous line of discussion with far more volume. “They will be resolved with time. In that time, you need to be prepared. Ready for the inevitable.”

“Proactive,” Micah said, remembering Prithvi’s—or rather, Gaia’s— goad during his visit at the Terra Kingdom. “Gaining control of my Element is important.”

“It is,” Josiah answered, though he knew Micah did not form it as a question. “Close your eyes, child. Your thoughts should not center on what’s needed to be done, but rather how you can accomplish so much with the potential of your Element.”  

Far easier said than done.

Conway Edlen claimed he was an adrenaline addict. Just as Micah. The royal guard said it took him many years to master his Element, but before he mastered his water Element, he had to first master meditation. A calm and smooth mind. Problems and concerns could not ripple his consciousness as he searched for his Element and familiarized himself with it.

Micah gradually closed his eyes, lulled by the repetitive movement of the train.

Josiah would make certain Micah would remain oblivious to his intentions until the time was right. Just as the man reiterated, Micah could not control this. Could not prevent this now. Instead, he had to prepare himself to oppose Agni when the time came.

_As if that could ever happen… opposing Agni?_

A snort slipped its way past his restraints.

“Focus,” Josiah reprimanded firmly.

For the issue of Kai, Micah did not know the scenario. His team mentioned he hadn’t been at the academy that morning. For all Micah knew, the boy had departed from the academy to visit his father or another ally. Perhaps Micah was worried for nothing. Perhaps he’d returned to the academy later that evening. Even so, if he truly was missing, Sachiel claimed he’d look for the other man.

Micah anticipated Sachiel would make good on that promise.

As for the state of the capital, Micah had no reason to think that things would be back to normal upon his arrival. He’d felt the web across his skin back at the Terra Kingdom. It worried him. While he hadn’t told Josiah, he knew, without a doubt, that the uninhibited god was wreaking havoc across _his_ kingdom. It was a problem. However, as Josiah indicated, it was not something he could do _now._ It was also something Josiah said he’d take care of when they were back at the capital.

One by one, Micah focused on the issues weighing heavily on him. Issues from his mother to his plans for the kingdom. He tore them apart layer by layer, effectively deciding that he’d solve them in due time. Perhaps he was fooling his mind into thinking he had a clear conscious by burying most issues away and smoothing them over as he typically always did.

And yet. He was anxious to get a hold of his Element.

When his mind did not feel so heavy, Micah allowed himself to flirt with his Element. It deserved some recognition for its beauty. For its power. For its sheer uniqueness. And unique it was.  Micah never recognized his gift for what it was: A gift.

No one else had the ability to conjure ice.

_You’re beautiful,_ he crooned to it. He felt the Element just under his skin, stubborn and refusing to surface unless it felt it necessary. _You’re always necessary,_ he reassured. 

His Element was similar to a vain individual, Micah noted wryly. Like a vexed Sachiel. It would not show itself until it knew Micah needed it to survive. Otherwise, it would continue to hide until it knew Micah properly appreciated its worth. _You’ve saved me many times without gratitude. Now I’m thanking you. Appreciating you._

He delved into the cold.

He’d been wary of it before. The stark isolation. The way it froze his bones and forced him into immobility. Submission, really. He’d felt buried alive. Under yards upon yards of dirt while the living dwelled above him. Now, he focused on its raw beauty. Cold. Stark. Dangerously sharp and harsh. Against light, it reflected an array of colors that shattered the soul and impaired the mind.

_I embrace you, welcome, and admire you._

He coaxed it out, like a wild animal in need of containment.

No, not containment, but promised freedom.

His focus chipped away like fractured ice. He could almost hear the shattering in his ears like victorious glass as his Element forced its way past his barriers. Gradually opening his eyes, he noticed the breaths of the guards turned into visible puffs of air. The noise around the compartment abruptly silenced as their focus fell on Micah. After all, the temperature around the compartment was chilling.

He turned to the window, noticing the thick layer of frost. A small smile flirted at the corners of his mouth as he reached forward and pressed his fingertips against the window. He did not flinch away from the cold.

In fact, he could not even feel it bite at his skin.

Unlike the guards, his breath was not visible. Micah raised the fingers that had pressed against the window, intrigued. His body temperature must have plummeted if the frost on the window did not affect him, if his breath was not visible. This hadn’t happened before. Usually, he felt chilled to the bone.  

He glanced at Josiah, stilling at the look of naked hunger across the man’s face. A fire smoldered in his gaze as he appraised Micah. Like the guards, his breath was visible, perhaps more so as his body temperature ran higher for being a fire Elemental. For being a fire _god._

Prithvi’s words came back to him with sharp, inexorable clarity.

_But what is more opposite of fire than ice?_

_You’ve always enjoyed a challenge, Agni._

Her words, her insinuations unnerved him so much. They left him feeling played and open for influence. Yet, as he stared at the man across from him, he found himself pulled in by the raw desire. Intrigued and badly curious.

Micah reached for Josiah’s hand that braced rigidly on the table.

Orange eyes watched his movements carefully, like an overgrown and calculating reptile considering an insect for its next meal. Before Micah’s fingers made contact, Josiah flipped his hand around, palm facing up. Small, blue flames licked the edges of his skin, a warning to others, but a conceited invitation to Micah.

_A dare._  

Embracing his Element, Micah’s fingers touched Josiah’s hand.

He’d expected an overdramatic burst of steam, perhaps. A natural assumption considering the opposing and dominant temperature of fire and ice. Instead, a slick, twisted sensation warped its way down Micah’s spine.

Entirely foreign and indescribable in its intensity.

A strangled gasp—moan—slipped past his defenses and he felt himself grow aroused. Across from him, Josiah’s pupils dilated and Micah was sure his did the same. It was nearly too much to comprehend. The man’s other hand came to lay on top of Micah’s, caging him and only intensifying the unique sensation.

It was incredibly painful. But a pain that felt so _good!_ An itch that needed to be scratched until it bled profusely. Pain to pleasure. Love and hate. Fire and ice. Everything, every small aspect involving Micah and Josiah was often times a violent contradiction.  

If just a touch could procure a violent reaction like this, Micah couldn’t imagine—

“I see you’ve managed to find your Element, Your Highness.”

Micah flinched from the obtrusive voice of Conway Edlen, pulling his hand from the blue flames. Considering he was immune to fire Elementals, he supposed he could never replicate the sensation with just anyone. It had to be with Agni and his fire. Fitting. The man wouldn’t have it any other way.

Smugly, Micah realized that Agni could not replicate the sensation with anyone else, either. As Prithvi stated, there _were_ no ice gods. 

“It seems that way,” he replied to Conway’s observation.

Micah shifted, his erection straining uncomfortably against his trousers. Across from him, Josiah regarded him knowingly, albeit haughtily. He hated the man. Such a smug bastard shouldn’t have been able to kindle such a reaction from him.

It helped that he knew Josiah was equally as affected.

When the compartment turned back to normal, and the tension in his groin lessened, Micah stood from the bench. Without a backwards glance, he departed from the compartment, intent on retreating to his quarters until dinner.

 

*** * * ***

Eurus was peculiar.

It certainly wasn’t a region for the faint of heart.

Too many heights. Too much possibility of freefalling into the unknown. Micah imagined the people of Terra would despise this eastern capital. There was hardly any earth to tunnel but rather paved over with smooth rock. Numerous buildings, crudely built and oddly put together, rose high in the air without a tree in sight. Several upon several metal bridges stretched over other bridges and tall, steel structures.

Eurus possessed far more technological intelligence than even Concordia. Eons above the Terra Kingdom.

It shouldn’t have surprised Micah that the Concordia people were so ignorant to the kingdoms to their east and west. They were ignorant to Eurus’ steadfast rise in technology and modernism. They didn’t know about the rich culture and the earthy haven the Terra Kingdom constructed through diligence and democracy.

Granted, the Concordia people learned a few things.

Tiny morsels meant to satisfy and sate to the point where questions would not arise.

Micah had his assumptions that the crown did not want to encourage further acculturation. However, Concordia wasn’t the only one who turned their nose over the prospect of merging the kingdoms together. He also imagined both Terra and Eurus wanted to keep their people close and keep other cultures out. It was a binding coexistence, but a coexistence nonetheless. The three kingdoms claimed they would welcome outside guests. After visiting each capital, Micah safely deduced the welcoming party would not be so warm. 

At least not warm enough to convince outsiders to stay very long. Intermixing these cultures, that were so rich with individuality, with distinctiveness, seemed like a potentially damning and devastating move.

It made Micah’s mood plummet as he thought of the Igni Empire and their lost culture. He felt cheated that he never had the opportunity to see that culture flourish at their peak. He pondered why Calder and Calder’s predecessors agreed to blend themselves with the Igni nation. The old Igni Empire was a desert dynasty rich with their own traditions and noteworthy inimitability like renowned blacksmithing.

_The Igni Empire was weak and ripe for the taking without water._

_He willingly put his people through a losing war just to get you._

Micah shifted, pulling his thoughts away from the last bit.

The Terra Kingdom was renowned for their gems, their herbs, and their minerals. Eurus seemingly excelled with modern materials and technology. If Micah had to identify Unda’s strength, it was their military and their unmatched healing capabilities. Coupled with the Igni Empire, they had very strong weaponry and strong manpower.

Would Calder be power-hungry enough to identify this and use it to his advantage?

“You appear deep in thought.”

Micah glanced sideways at Conway Edlen. “There is a lot to take in here,” he responded tautly. “I would have to spend days in the library trying to make sense of all their creations.”

After dwelling in the outskirt regions of Concordia, and arriving at the capital for the academy, he’d been disorientated with the new, up and coming technological advancements. Most of the inventions he researched were newer, which explained his ignorance. Fortunately, they were easy to comprehend, as they were inventions built on top of preexisting materials or objects.

Here, however, he felt out of his element.

Conway appeared anything but impressed with his surroundings. The nobleman grimaced as he gazed high above at the tracks built from steel. “It looks like a lot of metal and moving gears to me. Not particularly impressive.”

Scoffing at the man, Micah followed the party off the shuttle.

‘ _Shuttle’_ as one of the Eurus men called it. It was similar to a horse and carriage, without the horse and at a far greater speed. Like a mini train. Region 20 had an intra-region transport that was very similar to the shuttle, yet it wasn’t quite as… imposingly modern and flashy. Nor fast.

Nearly an hour ago, their train had stopped at the Eurus Empire’s central depot. Two Eurus men, clothed in long, white robes, greeted them upon arrival. They requested for the military to stay behind, as well as Calder’s _corpse gifts_ he intended to deliver to the High Priests.

Surprisingly, Josiah had consented to the request.

With only the personal guards in tow, Josiah and Micah had followed the two Eurus men to a shuttle that transported them to the capital. On their way over, the group was tensely quiet.

Unlike the delegators at the Terra Kingdom, their _tour guides_ hadn’t engaged them in conversation. They did not explain the sights they passed nor the history behind it. Submerged in silence, Micah had observed his surroundings with a keen, curious eye. The amount of metal and the numerous track systems that twisted high above and below had fascinated him.

It was like a forest of steel.

And _gears_ , as Conway commented.

It truly was. Steel and moving gears. Their technology advancements were impressive, yes, but most if it appeared as if they’d simply perfected the transportation system and built it excessively throughout their territory. Their capital buildings, while remarkable with the height and the unusual materials used, appeared unsophisticated and almost crude. It was still a remarkable sight, however, only because it was so different from the beautiful, detailed architecture in Concordia.

Finally walking on solid ground, Micah and the others approached a tall and imposing building. It blended in well with other, neighboring structures, in the sense that it possessed a unique shape and a metal exterior. 

Micah couldn’t help but amuse himself with the consequences of fire Elementals attacking this capital. There would be adverse effects from the heat and Eurus’ decision to wrap themselves with metal.

Outside, several men and women walked the paths of the capital.

Their attention honed immediately on Micah and the others. While the markets were entirely indoors in this province, with little to no outside vendors, that did not stop the paths from overcrowding with high foot traffic. It would seem Eurus was heavily populated, especially here, at the capital.

Most Eurus citizens possessed fair complexions and eyes ranging from steely grey to dark charcoal. Their hair, styled in numerous ways, appeared predominately dark, yet Micah witnessed several hair colors stained grey and white with age. Their clothing seemed rather drab and colorless. Greys, blacks, and whites. Color, if worn, seemed washed and pale. The style of dress were trousers and blouses, but oddly cut in Micah’s opinion. The women even wore trousers in excessive, not skirts or dresses as the females wore in Concordia and even the Terra Kingdom.

Before the group climbed a set of stairs, a group of street performers suddenly caught Micah’s eye.

How could they not catch his eye?

Bright colors, flowing robes, and beautifully constructed hand-held fans stood out dramatically from the drab and colorless cityscape. Their faces were powdered a porcelain white, their lips painted a surprising crimson. A number of women and men, possessing long, silky hair and traditional robes of breathtaking colors, moved sinuously in the air and suspended on nothing but their Element.

Air Elementals.

Micah stopped abruptly, ogling.

The group of Elementals expertly utilized their props in their routine. Melancholy voices gently hummed melodic notes that sounded especially haunting to Micah’s ears. They were the embodiment of grace as their hair and robes draped eloquently and their fans spun with hypnotizing ease. Their bodies spiraled and arched, defying all human logic.

When Micah looked at them, he felt the echoes of nostalgia coming through in their song. He felt as if he were looking at a dead culture, one that was once rich with vibrancy and sinuous grace.

Everything was now drab. Colorless.

A pity.

“If there is one god who couldn’t be more contrary to his people, it is Vayu.”

Josiah slithered next to Micah, watching the performers with bored consideration. The other members of their party stood several feet away, waiting patiently for Micah to get his fill of the street performers.

When they arrived in Eurus, Micah noticed Josiah had grown reserved and withdrawn. The man appeared suspiciously clingy as well, unabashedly following Micah with his eyes and hovering close by.

“He’s here, isn’t he?” Micah conjectured. It would certainly explain Josiah’s peculiar behavior.

Orange eyes focused on him. “He recently grounded himself, yes.”  

‘Grounded himself’ was evidently Josiah’s way of saying Vayu crossed the line between the realm of gods and the mortal world. “Just recently?” Micah pondered on the wording. “I’m assuming it’s not an easy occurrence for a god to come into the mortal world. You seem unsettled with his presence.”

“Define easy,” Josiah responded quietly. “Procedurally, it is easy for a god to cross realms. Psychologically, however, the process is quite challenging. A god loses most of his powers when he grounds himself here. It’s a sacrifice to make oneself vulnerable.”

_Vulnerable._ Micah scoffed. Josiah was hardly vulnerable.

“Prithvi—”

“Is almost always grounded. She enjoys living amongst her mortals.”

“And you?”

Though Micah imagined he already knew the answer.

Josiah’s mouth quirked. “Special occasions.” He watched the performers. “Vayu rarely ever makes it a habit to grace mortals with his presence.”

Micah frowned. A soft breeze ran its fingers through his hair as the dancers shifted and twirled. When he’d visited the Noir User guru about gods, the man claimed Agni was the god who walked amongst mortals the least often. Micah wondered just how accurate those fables truly were in Beck’s large tome. Prithvi stated Agni rarely walked among mortals as well, so if Agni considered Vayu the god least inclined to visit the mortal realm, the air god must never touch ground here.

“Which is why you claim he’s so different from his people,” Micah deduced. “Unlike Prithvi, who no doubt influences the lifestyle of those who worship her, the people of Eurus established their own culture without Vayu’s guidance.”

A hand landed on his head.

Fondly, Josiah brushed aside a strand of his hair. “Religion, especially here at the capital, is but a dying folklore. Technology and modern day trends are taking precedence. However, the outskirt villages remain rich with culture, so much so that Vayu’s followers are plentiful. Yet, he is just beginning to realize that the capital activities will not stop at the capital borders. It will spread.”

“Am I right in assuming a future mass catastrophe here at the capital?” Micah mused unhappily. “He’s turned away from his people and subconsciously allowed this new direction. Now he realizes his oversight and will undoubtedly try to fix it by destroying and starting anew.”

Josiah’s hand fell from his hair and settled on his shoulder. “You do not approve.”

Micah grimaced. “He shouldn’t have let it get this far without interference. None of you, none of the Big Four, who have nations supporting and worshiping you, should make such an erroneous slip. Your attention should always be on your people.”

It didn’t occur to him until after he said it that he was essentially scolding Agni and telling the god how he and the others should do their job.

The back of his neck flushed.

The fire god appeared greatly entertained. “If we are not grounded here, time as you are familiar with it, slips by for an immortal. In Vayu’s case, he became complacent along with looking the other way. Nevertheless, you are right. Attentions should not waver and we should not use disasters to correct our mistakes. I would imagine Vayu will attempt other means before he considers mass destruction.”

“Other means?”

“You will see.” Josiah paused. “Stay close to me, child.”    

The hand was gone and so was the presence at his side. Turning, Micah deliberated Josiah’s back, feeling something akin to anticipation tighten his stomach. Clearly, Agni and Prithvi tolerated each other, so much so that Josiah’s overprotectiveness hadn’t reared its ugly head until the very end of their stay. With Vayu, they hadn’t even encountered said god, yet Josiah was already smothering.

Micah followed the others up the stairs.

Before they entered through the large glass doors, Micah admired the setting sun reflecting across the building’s polished exterior. A brilliant—almost arresting— hue of crimson rebounded off the building and all those in the area, washing Eurus in blood red.

Raising his hands, he admired the crimson staining the white leather of his gloves.

Morbidly stunning.

As they entered the building, several guards stood at attention. They nodded briskly to the two Eurus guides, but otherwise stayed immobile as Micah and the others passed. The building, for all its expansive size, was empty. The white tiles absorbed the colors of the sunset from outside and highlighted their journey across the empty lobby.

Their surroundings were almost clinical. Clean, precise, and jaded in its hospitality.

Clambering into a lift, one of the Eurus guides hit a button and they jerked into motion. The lift was similar to the one at the Terra Kingdom when they’d descended into the sacred vaults far below the underground sanctuary city.

Only it was much smoother of a ride. Far quicker.

Everything about Eurus was a well-oiled and efficient machine. A machine, Micah pondered with deep contemplation. It was a fitting description for this territory. Very cold. Modern. And impersonal.

After seeing the other two neighboring territories, Micah couldn’t help but to admire and appreciate his own capital for its technology advancements, but also keeping to old cultures and handsome architecture. Concordia offered charm, while also offering a semblance of convenience.

Almost a perfect blend of both Terra and Eurus.

“Through the doors the High Priests are expecting you.”

The two Eurus guides took a giant step away from each other and bowed at their waist, creating an aisle wide enough to approach the closed doors. Micah smirked as he followed Josiah, pleased the man was taking the lead on this particular political tour.

The Terra Kingdom he could handle.

This, conversely, was an environment he wasn’t especially privy to the customs.

He didn’t know what he expected from the ‘High Priests’ other than the fact that three individuals ruled the kingdom with a committee of other priests. They called themselves priests, and achieved such honor through strenuous education and training. Their lives centered on Vayu. They altered their desires and lifestyle around what would please their god. Or, at least what they anticipated would please Vayu.

Josiah, dressed in his stiff and domineering military uniform, pushed open the doors. Calder’s royal guards also donned black attire, a surprising color choice considering their loyalty typically ran towards the blue hues of Calder. Calder’s personal assistant, Ara, who was in charge of wardrobe and image, most likely coordinated all this. Through colors and wardrobe, she played the political game.

Unfortunately, her design was about to be challenged.

They entered an antechamber of sorts, a small, enclosed room. White walls, white floors, white ceilings with bright, electric lights, nearly blinded Micah. Three men, clad in white, held out folded robes. “Please disrobe down to your undergarments and abandon your weapons. We’ve provided robes.”

Behind Micah, Conway scoffed. “I don’t think—” He trailed off abruptly when Micah removed his outer coat. “Your _Highness,_ ” he exclaimed, scandalized and extremely distraught over the prospect of the crown disrobing so primitively.

“Social status does not exist where you’re about to go,” one of the men responded mechanically. “There are only the priests and the High Priests. Word of Vayu.”

Micah paused, staring at the trio of men, before resuming with disrobing. Without turning, he knew Conway stood stiffly, stubbornly motionless. Josiah seemed reluctant as well, but even he began to unbutton his coat.

“It’s merely a custom, Captain Edlen.” Micah glanced behind him at the guards. The others wouldn’t follow the orders until their captain did. “We are in _their_ territory. We would expect nothing less for visitors if we had the same customs back in Concordia.” Unfastening his sword holster, he noticed their continued immobility. “You and the others will stay behind if you do not follow the directive.”

Conway exhaled shortly upon Micah’s threat.

“Shoes and boots as well.”

Micah unlaced his boots before stepping out of his trousers. He did not feel remotely exposed, particularly satisfied of his physique as any warrior should be. But this could also be a political move by the Eurus Empire.

Perhaps they intended to disgrace and humiliate Micah.

Throw him off balance and make him vulnerable. It was a bit disorientating, but nothing he couldn’t get a handle on. 

Accepting a robe from one of the attendants, Micah pulled it over his head. It pooled around his figure, just hitting the top of his naked toes. He caught Josiah’s eyes and the man’s expression was unreadable as he waited for the others to finish. Seeing such a dark, malevolent creature donned entirely in white was a bit ironic.

Humorous, really.

“Something amusing?” Josiah inquired silkily.

“White is unquestionably your color, Lord Josiah.”

“Insolent child.” Josiah turned away and Micah smirked vindictively at his back.

As soon as they were relieved of their identities and status, the attendants ushered them forward. Like sheep, they followed. The skin of their bare feet slapped against the cold, polished tiles and resonated across the small antechamber. Approaching a set of double doors, both attendants took hold of a large handle and pushed open the opposing doors.  

Micah and Josiah walked inside side by side.

The royal guards immediately flocked protectively around them. As the group crossed the barrier into the chamber, Micah realized stripping them of their status and identity wasn’t a political tactic, but truly a cultural request.

Around him, white encased his surroundings.

The antechamber had been overwhelmingly bright, but it was nothing compared to _this._ White marble made up the floors, ceilings, and walls. Columns, massive and oppressive, were carved picturesquely from polished, white granite. An artificial light source brightened the room in an entrancing luminosity. A silk, white carpet dressed the aisle, hardly any consolation to the cold tile.

Disconcertingly, Micah nearly missed the figures standing on either side of the aisle.

They appeared like statues. Unmoving and eerily identical.

Appearing the same height and weight, the figures all wore matching white robes. Veils covered their heads and faces, blurring their identities. Micah supposed the veil had religious significance. However, it only served to unnerve him greatly.

The statue-like figures had to be the priests.

Meanwhile, the three High Priests…

Micah directed his attention forward, toward the end of the aisle. Three men stood from three, unimpressive chairs. Their robes were identical to the priests, but their veils were crimson and far longer in the front and down the back.

“Prince Ezra and Lord Josiah, it is a pleasure.” All three clasped their hands together under the sleeves of their robes and in front of their body. They performed a quick, shallow bob simultaneously, before straightening.

As Micah returned the quick, informal greeting, he pondered on the possibility of outlawing the color white in Concordia. 

It couldn’t be too difficult. It was certainly understandable.

Straightening, Micah caught the faint red-gold hue from the aisle. Though the artificially lit room nearly muted the aura, the color was hard to miss amongst all the white. The veiled figure stood closest to the throne, on Josiah’s side. Micah wondered if Josiah had deliberately placed himself in the middle.

“We appreciate your hospitality and generous welcome,” Josiah said. His typically quiet voice seemed nearly resounding in the ascetic chamber. “I anticipate that you already know the conditions of our visit.”

They were evidently going to speak here. Amongst so many ears and eyes.

Micah straightened to hide his displeasure.

“We understand King Calder’s displeasure over the attack on Concordia.” Their voices were robotic and cold, detached from personal emotions. “If fire and water Elementals attacked our capital, even under the guise of practicing Noir Magic, we wouldn’t be nearly as inert. Delivering corpses as a warning to the kingdoms is a very passive aggressive tactic.”

Micah lowered his lashes at the insult. “And what would Eurus have done?” Their heads turned in his direction with silent observation. “You say you wouldn’t be nearly as inert as Concordia under the same circumstances,” Micah elaborated. “Please, enlighten me, how would our neighbors to the east react?”

The three priests looked between themselves, as if they could accurately perceive what their fellow colleague was thinking underneath that mesh veil. The man in the middle lifted a hand. A long, pale finger reached from the depths of his robes and pointed directly at Micah. “We would never be under such circumstances. The gods have spoken. _You_ were the catalyst of the attack.”

Standing opposite of the accusing finger, Micah felt as if he were back in school.

Josiah stirred. “It is believed to be an assassination attack, yes—”

“Not a political assassination attack, Lord Josiah, but rather a declaration of displeasure amongst the deities. Prince Ezra’s existence is an abomination— _unnatural._ The children of the four gods should not crossbreed. It is a disgrace to the gods.”

Another priest spoke up. “They will not stop until all these abominations are erased.”

Micah’s hands trembled as he stepped closer to the three priests. “Is that a threat to my people?” he whispered indignantly.

“It is not a threat, Prince Ezra.” The High Priest who’d remained silent thus far raised his hands in an attempt to placate. “It is a message. We listen. The gods are restless. Perceive it as a warning, if you will. Your race—your people—are such a small number.”

“Far easier to protect, then.”

“Easier to abolish,” another High Priest corrected.

Micah had no retort to that. Were these priests delusional in the sense that they believed they could hear the gods? They were correct that gods attacked Concordia with the sole purpose of killing Micah. Their reasoning, however, was wrong. It wasn’t because he was biracial, but because he released a Syphon.

Unless Josiah was unaware or intentionally withholding further information about the gods’ displeasure, Micah found it hard to believe gods would concern themselves over the procreation of mortals. But who knew? From what little exposure he had, Micah did not have a high opinion on gods. As the Noir User guru mentioned, they were childish—immature—and mentally stunted beings with complexes.

On the other hand, maybe these priests did have a semblance of ability to listen to the gods but the words were muted, distorted.

Perhaps this was how Vayu would go about fixing the progression at the capital.

“Forgive me for my… lapse of understanding,” Josiah began, his voice strained. He inclined his head and his smile froze with promised threat. “But it sounds as if the Eurus Empire is publically stating their animosity towards the future ruler of Concordia. All because of his mixed heritage.”

“Then I must apologize for our miscommunication, Lord Josiah. It is not Eurus who has spoken, but the gods.”

“Eurus follows the gods,” Josiah persisted sharply. “It is also your _word_ , is it not?”

A tense silence filled the chamber.

The High Priest, who’d tried to placate Micah earlier, bowed his head. “No. We do not plan to extract any violence towards the sitting prince of Concordia. We may not approve of Unda’s radical decision to crossbreed, but we are peaceful people. Prince Ezra, you have done nothing to encourage hostility. We only wish to warn you.”

“So you’ve mentioned,” Micah responded stiffly. “I appreciate that.” 

His sarcasm must have bled through, for Josiah looked at him with mild amusement. “We have lost course of our original intentions of coming here today. What are your plans regarding the restrictions of Noir Users?”

“We do not put restrictions on Noir Users, you know this, Lord Josiah. They are free to learn what they will.”

“A sentiment I agree with full heartedly,” Micah intervened keenly. “What I do not agree with, however, is your insistence of turning a blind eye to these men and women. The information they learn is dangerous.”

“You are insisting on tracking these individuals.”

“Tracking them? No. Embracing them,” Micah proposed avidly. “Not many can master the art of Noir Magic. Unfortunately, society’s treatment of Magi is archaic. We’re too skittish. We fear them. That fear influences them to think of Noir Magic as unorthodox and forbidden. That, in turn, spurs deviancy.”

He felt Josiah’s sharp regard.

Truthfully, his proposal was spontaneous. In hindsight, he should have shared his opinion with Josiah before pitching it to the Eurus Empire. However, Micah’s ideals were often times too radical to propose in Concordia. Here, the Eurus Empire seemed more liberal regarding the laws of their people. If anyone would consider altering the treatment of Noir Users, it was Eurus.

It would be something Micah would gladly observe from afar.

“And what would you suggest, Prince Ezra?”

Whether they were humoring him, mocking him, or truly curious, Micah succumbed. “A controlled environment,” he proposed. “A safe haven where they, and their art, are accepted. While maintaining a level of distance, an environment such as this will allow for close observation. Instead of turning every Noir User into an enemy, try to nurture allies.”

One of the High Priests lowered himself onto his chair.

This spurred the reaming two to follow.

“And have you presented this same proposition to King Calder? Surely, Calder does not intend to act on these plans.”

Micah felt a minor flicker of irritation as he continued to stare at their veiled expression. No matter how unreadable an individual, there were _always_ small cues to read. Not in this case. Not when the crimson veils erased any opportunity to read.

He groped blindly and used his intuition to plan his next move. “It is not a plan, but rather a suggestion,” Micah corrected. “Concordia is a kingdom that thrives off traditionalism. While I will speak to King Calder about the prospect, I recognize that the Eurus Empire is far more lenient with Noir Magic. It would be an easier transition here than my kingdom.”

“The possibilities are certainly worth investigating,” the friendlier priest declared. “Establishing a home base for our native Noir Users would undoubtedly give us further advantage and endless new resources.”

“We recognize there are several Eurus citizens who have gone rogue. Those that attacked your capital were not acting on our orders.” The priest in the middle lifted a hand, as if to physically gesture their innocence. “We understand King Calder’s frustrations, but we will certainly not sanction our people because he _deems_ it.”

“Calder is merely concerned for Concordia,” Josiah interjected effortlessly. “Such an attack brought with it significant damage and several casualties. If it is a repeating occurrence, he will _act_ in Concordia’s best interests. You will find his next plan of action lacking in _inertness_.”

Micah hummed low in his throat, tickled at the man’s last comment—insult— and finding it extremely comical.   

“The warning is loud and clear, Lord Josiah, and out of our hands.” The priest motioned to Micah. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Prince Ezra. Just as we hear Calder’s warning, I hope you heed ours.”

It was a dismissal if Micah ever heard one.

“We encourage you to take advantage of our hospitality. It is late. Dinner will be provided and rooms are already prepared.”

An attendant, clad entirely in white, appeared at Micah’s side and extended an arm, motioning to the exit.

Micah did not hesitate. He followed the directive, a displeased group of royal guards flocking him. Briefly, his attention landed on the god standing solitarily amongst the row of priests. Surely, Vayu would have picked a High Priest as his vessel.

Not someone so silent and observing.

Even so, the god’s veiled head turned and watched his departure.

 


	17. Chapter Seventeen

  1. **Chapter Seventeen**



“You are a naïve and ignorant fool.”

Micah did not give Conway the satisfaction of turning around.

Dinner had been a strained event. Josiah hadn’t said a word all evening and the royal guards were just as silent. They’d eaten alone at the dining hall, their clinking utensils the only sound that transpired between the group. Micah had sensed the air of frustration and disappointment. He recognized and acknowledged he’d overstepped his bounds by speaking of Noir Users in such a reformist way, especially considering Calder sent him on this tour to slap the wrists of the kingdoms who allowed such leeway with sorcery.

He’d gone completely against Concordia’s principles.

Another political misstep, yes, but he was not going to cower. His proposition was new. A budding, nearly intangible taste of an idea that could grow into something impressively beneficial for everyone involved. He just needed to fill in the lines and make it more tangible for people to see and stand behind.

Alas, he had several other weighing concerns that needed attention before the Noir Users.

“It is rather petty you waited to speak until Josiah was no longer with us.” Micah smirked. “You must have been simmering, Conway. Dinner must have been torture. The words you so desperately wanted to say sitting on the tip of your tongue, scalding. Did you even taste your food with that amount of indignation?”

Conway did not respond right away.

Glancing over his shoulder, Micah noticed the other guards loitering down the corridor, close to Josiah’s assigned room. Conveniently, Micah and Josiah’s rooms were adjacent, making it easier for the guards to cover both overnight.

“Lord Josiah no doubt thinks the same way we do,” Conway responded disdainfully. “After all, he had to recover from your irrational proposition about the Noir Users.”

“Personally, I believed the proposition was especially rational,” Micah countered smartly.

He lingered outside his assigned room, turning to give the fuming guard his attention.

The blond-haired man breathed fiercely through his nose, causing his nostrils to flare dramatically. Always theatrics with the Edlens. “You had one purpose on this tour. To introduce yourself and present a unified front with King Calder. It wasn’t meant to be a playing ground for ideals that will undoubtedly get back to the king and the noblemen.”

“I’m sure you will be eager to tell all.”

The animosity rolled off the man in conspicuous waves. “I’m not the only eyes and ears on this tour,” Conway informed with an angry undertone. “These ideas you have are precisely why there is such a rift in our kingdom regarding your coronation. Little princes are not supposed to revolutionize decade-old principles and traditions.”

Micah slid a hand across the doorframe, considering the smooth, cold metal as he steadied his temper. Once he harnessed his calm, he dropped his hand and took a calculating step towards Calder’s personal guard.

“I will not sit quietly on that throne,” he promised with a fervent whisper. “Those decade-old principles you are referencing are no longer applicable in our kingdom. The day Unda joined with the Igni Empire, those principles became obsolete.”

Conway narrowed his eyes. “You are an outsider,” the man said. “You weren’t even raised as a proper heir to the throne. Your actions are that of a starry-eyed boy who believes he can abolish social inequality by spitting on a superior culture and destroying it.” 

“I don’t plan on destroying anything, but rather redefining it.”

The man shook his head once. “That is the same thing.”

“I belong to both of the cultures that live in our kingdom. As an _outsider,_ ” Micah started, “I can see the flaws you’ve been blindsided by since conception.”

“You will not survive long with that mentality.”

Micah scoffed and stepped back to the bedroom. “Then you are wasting your time, Captain Edlen. I suggest guarding Ladon, the one who will undoubtedly occupy the throne.”

He shut the door on Conway, feeling something akin to prickling unease. Micah hissed under his breath and walked to the lit fireplace. He wouldn’t let it get under his skin. The man’s words were not surprising, nor were they anything he hadn’t heard from others. There was, however, a sense of unsettlement over the weight of the man’s last statement.

Micah wouldn’t survive long. He would die young.

The cold hand of promise curled around the nape of his neck and gleefully whispered that it was _true_. A prophecy set in stone. Should it really come to a surprise? Nearly his entire kingdom wanted him dead. The _gods_ wanted him dead.

Sitting down on the settee, Micah rubbed a hand down his face, smirking into the palm of his glove. Such fascinating odds. It was nearly insulting to both Concordia _and_ the gods that he was still alive, really. Yes, he had the protection of Agni. But the god of fire was just one amongst many and with his own agenda.

As Micah confessed to Josiah earlier, he was not afraid of death. Nevertheless, he wanted to succeed in rectifying the dysfunction of Concordia. Not being able to complete all the missions he was slowly cultivating to set out to accomplish was unnervingly upsetting. For it to all disappear from his grasp in an instant… For the kingdom to identify his death as fortunate… a cataclysm avoided…

All the old, blond noblemen would cackle over his grave. They’d clink their glasses of scotch and drink to his death.

A flash of light, followed by a deep clap of thunder, jarred him from the vision. He deliberated the large windows overseeing the dark cityscape. Hundreds of tiny lights beamed from the neighboring towers, bringing with it a sense of life amongst the stark environment. There was no terrace in his rooms, but there was a large patio-like overhang. Some sort of sleek design feature, he supposed. Judging from the lack of door accessing outside, it was about style, not practicality.

Casting a suspicious look around the moderately lit bedroom suite, he turned back to the fire and hunched over, considering his hands. Removing his glove, he stared at the uneven flesh across his palms. The flames in the hearth reflected the shiny sheen of healed, disfigured skin. So ugly. So permanent. A reminder of the moment when Agni took over as the conductor of Micah’s childhood.

He thought of his mother.

A deep, poignant sadness and bitterness filled him. Small things, from the Igni dance at the Terra Kingdom, and even to his revelations about the importance of each, separate culture, rekindled his remembrance of his childhood with her. It also brought forth a certain amount of betrayal and confusion.

Ember knew Micah was immune to the Elements when she put him in those flames when he was a child. Her purpose, while callous, was to draw Josiah into the nursery. She’d wanted to confirm her suspicions that Agni possessed her brother. What happened after, between Agni and Ember, Micah could only imagine.  

Agni said he’d allowed her to take Micah. He’d _wanted_ her to take Micah away from the palace. Nevertheless, if Ember knew that Agni possessed Josiah, why had she tried to manipulate Micah to oppose him? She had to have known that Micah didn’t stand a chance against Josiah. But that was the point, wasn’t it?

Ember wanted to instill distrust in Micah. She’d instilled the hate and displeasure against the god Agni by praying to him and demonstrating their unanswered pleas. In her own way, she’d been preparing Micah to stand his own opposite of said fire god. After all, Agni did not want a docile and loyal prince who fell to his knees at the mere mention of the fire god.

Ember had manipulated Micah under Agni’s manipulations.

Ironically fitting.

Nevertheless, it brought forth more questions.

Suddenly, a heavy _thud_ sounded from the corridor. Micah continued staring at his disfigured palm, his gaze unfocused and not truly seeing. It certainly didn’t take long for Vayu to act, did it? Quite honestly, Micah was dissatisfied. He’d anticipated a late night blitz attack when defenses were down and the thick veil of slumber clouded his reactions.

He exhaled with irritation and stood from the couch. Unless Micah and death were a hairbreadth away from contact with each other, Agni would not intervene. The god would consider it a learning experience.

A potential to get better, stronger.

Scuffling and a bang sounded directly outside his door. Only when he heard a loud gurgle of someone choking on what he assumed was blood, did he draw his sword. The door slammed open a moment later and Conway and three other guards shuffled inside.

“You are under attack, Your Highness,” Conway presented with a matter-of-factly tone. He had a very impressive tenor for someone stating the obvious. “Please, stay back.”

Before the door closed once more, Micah observed a nameless corpse lying on the ground, his eyes glossy and his mouth open wide. Blood dripped steadily from the corner of his mouth and pooled on the ground beneath him. Conway Edlen had some skill, after all.

“Perhaps you can do without stating the obvious,” Micah murmured tonelessly.  

“Lord Josiah is not in his rooms.”

_That is stating the obvious, Captain Elden._

“Yet we deposited him there mere minutes ago,” Micah stated with amusement. “Imagine that… how odd.”

Conway appeared frustrated. He held out a hand in Micah’s direction, as if the younger man were a skittish animal in need of nonverbal placating instead of a bored, unimpressed prince. “We have this under control, Your Highness. You do not need to draw your weapon.”

Micah withheld the temptation to sigh again, and instead, sat back down on the settee. He looked for the liquor, but found none. “Perhaps it’s best we leave. Clearly, we are not wanted here.” He spoke to the flames.

Conway did not respond, but rather coiled near the door, his body rigid and waiting. Micah closed his eyes, listening to the strong wind and thunder escalate outside. Dueling forces. Wind. Lightning. Not a single drop of rain hit the windows. Varuna, the god of water, would bow out of this spectacle, recognizing the dance between fire and wind. 

Vayu and Agni. Mixing wind and fire was nothing short of catastrophe, at least for those in the immediate proximity. Perhaps Josiah was off somewhere, engaged in his own confrontation, leaving Micah to deal with Vayu’s minions. Mindless dolls, rotating gracefully upon command.

Micah hoped he never danced for Agni like that.

A strong gust of wind burst open the door and invaded the room. Already prepared, Micah ducked behind the couch, feeling the fire in the hearth extinguish pathetically at his back. Something crashed through the large windows of the bedroom, effectively shattering one of the glass panes. Micah glanced over his shoulder just in time to see a royal guard tumble promptly off the patio and into the depths below.  

When the wind suddenly died down, Micah stood from behind the couch, peeking over the top of the cushion.

Across the room, a concentrated force of wind held Conway captive against the wall. Obviously, the man couldn’t breathe. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, struggling with the pressure against his chest. The man’s water Element thrashed crazily, disjointed from a true purpose as it struggled to attack the enemy. Held back against the forceful winds, the water merely became a pretty decoration as it splashed against an invisible barrier.

The enemy was in the form of a priest. Or, what resembled a priest. Veiled, ambiguous, and wispy. The red-gold aura simmering off the attacker indicated this was not one of Eurus’ sacred priests. Micah doubted it was Vayu, otherwise they’d all be dead by now.

Micah felt little remorse as he lunged at the man.

His dislike for gods only intensified with each passing day.

Before his sword could land its mark, his feet lifted abruptly from the floor and his back slammed against the ceiling. Despite the whirlwind and loss of gravity, Micah maintained his grip on his sword. It would be vital he remain armed at all times. Staring down at another veiled attacker, he attempted to coax his Element to the surface. With the strong wind assaulting his senses, Micah had trouble harnessing that calm he’d experienced on the train when conjuring his Element.

If anything, his frustration began to rise.

“Don’t like it up there?” the deity goaded. “Let’s get you down.” 

The air Elemental didn’t just drop him. He crashed him down upon a desk.

Micah wheezed as the piece of furniture broke his fall. Built cheaply, the wood splintered and speared his side. He emitted a short, anguished grunt as the jagged plank sliced through his skin and wedged between his ribs.

No more poetry and placating words of encouragement for his Element.

It would come _now._

Standing from the debris, Micah observed the three circling attackers. The vague blur underneath their veils reminded Micah of smug, arrogant smiles. An appropriate expression considering their haughty body language. Just over their shoulders, Conway and another royal guard engaged their own enemy, the former evidently having escaped the crushing hold against the wall.

“Mortals are so messy.”

Micah looked down. Blood dripped steadily from the wood projectile embedded into his side. Curling a hand around the object, he tugged it loose. A spray of crimson splattered gruesomely across the rug, staining the white fabric a more agreeable color.

Across the room, a shadow suddenly caught Micah’s attention.

A humanoid shadow that flickered in and out of existence…

Unease crawled its way down Micah’s neck and down to his tailbone. He hadn’t seen _it_ for quite some time. Heard all about _it,_ was hunted because of _it,_ but the last time he’d seen the god eater was when Agni chased it away at the palace. The god eater—Syphon—flickered across the room before disappearing.

No one but Micah was the wisest.

Remembering how fanatic the Syphon turned over the prospect of Micah’s blood, and how weak it made Micah when he drank, his focus wavered from the gods to the more prominent threat. The Syphon.

“ _Ezra_!”

Conway’s shout refocused Micah’s attention to where it _should_ have been. He watched as Conway ducked fiercely behind a blade, his blond ponytail whipping around eccentrically. Their attacker’s sword, however, did not miss Conway’s partner. The royal guard, unprepared for the attack after Conway’s sudden dodge, took the blade through his chest. It reminded Micah vividly of Keegan’s death.

Half-delirious, Micah made a noise of pathetic protest. The wooden stake in his hand turned ice-cold.

The royal guard collapsed to his knees, his expression slack as the attacker yanked the sword from his chest. Just as the guard gasped out his last breath, Micah hurled the stake across the room, hoping to give the dying man one last victory. Fortunately, he did. The stake imbedded into the attacker’s neck, automatically dropping him.

The red-gold aura escaped the dying host, and for a moment, the Syphon blinked back into existence, as if considering the escaping god before disappearing once more.

Had the entity forgotten he was called a ‘god eater’?

He caught Conway’s eyes briefly before a gust of wind threw Micah off his feet once more. He screamed with rage as he shattered the glass to the bedroom, following the first royal guard’s tumble across the patio. He wouldn’t die this way. He wouldn’t have Agni run to save him like this. Like some weak, feeble little human reliant on his god!

_No!_

Micah’s back hit the patio and he continued to roll towards the edge, his hand still clutching on his sword. His remaining hand blindly groped the slick, sheen steel, hoping to anchor himself before falling. Unexpectedly, fingers touched his neck faintly before proceeding to curl around the scruff of his robes. Micah’s descent automatically halted, his body posed stationary in the midst of the gale-force winds.

Squinting through the wind, he glanced up, spying the Syphon as his savior before the skeletal-like shadow blinked back out of existence.

Seething, Micah struggled to stand as the gods forced Conway onto the patio. Fortunately, the royal guard harnessed his Element well enough. A water-like barrier appeared behind the captain, cushioning and preventing him from toppling over the edge.

Micah immediately felt envious. His Element just wouldn’t _listen._

Micah charged forward, relying on his skill as a swordsman. In mid lunge, they laughed, a high-pitched, animal-like laugh. A light wind pulled at him, not hard enough to send him over the edge, but forceful enough to keep him in place. They were all Elementals. At least their vessels were air Elementals.

“Not much to fear here,” one of them murmured.

“Rather ordinarily plain. Even for a mortal.”

Their amusement was evident. Their scorn derisive. Micah felt the belittling emotions slap him in the face. He snarled and slashed his sword, his entire body staying in place from the wind. They continued to laugh before two of the three gods turned to Conway, growing bored with Micah.

Shame burned at his cheeks.

And then the sudden sensation of fatigue hit him hard.

His vision swam. His movements stilled.

He turned accusingly, peering into the bedroom suite and spying the Syphon hovering over the spilt blood. _Micah’s_ spilt blood. With surprising suction, the entity lifted the blood from the rug, inhaling every drop. Soon, the pristine white rug no longer had any evidence of gore. Simultaneously, the wound at Micah’s side seared with pain.

He grew weak. The Syphon grew stronger. Micah ground his teeth together in order to stifle his cry of outrage.

_Foolish_ god eater! Did the entity not realize Micah needed his strength right now?

“Your power is… truly inconceivable. Incredible, little fledgling.” The god eater appeared at his side in a blink of an eye, his image no longer flickering, but rather solid and eerie with the cracked, and not quite molded features. “You’re just not harnessing it correctly. Let me see.”

The bone-white hand reached for him, and before Micah could comprehend, the Syphon stepped into his body _._

Horror. Panic. Terror _._ Micah’s body washed cold. Amidst the feelings of panic and fear, he felt power unexpectedly course through his veins. Something connected _._ An extension of himself he wasn’t aware of abruptly flared to life, presenting him with revenues he hadn’t believed possible. It was spectacular.

As he registered the power rush, Micah stopped failing pathetically against the air Elemental. Mist curled around his feet and hands, and gradually, a wall of ice built itself in front of him, stopping the onslaught.

Conway howled piercingly.

In a haze, Micah turned, watching as Conway’s water whip sliced an attacker across the throat, dropping the human vessel and releasing the god’s presence. Unfortunately, Conway’s attack left him vulnerable to the second assailant. Wind pummeled his body, causing bones to snap audibly. Conway heaved loudly as both his legs buckled unnaturally, dropping him to the ground. His exhalation sounded forced as the air escaped his lungs. The Elemental across form the royal guard made a fist with his hand, evidently squeezing the oxygen from his body.

Micah could have let it happen. Calder’s personal guard was an irritation. A nuisance. He was just like all the other nobles. However, he wasn’t the enemy. Not now, at least.

Every time Micah interacted with the man, he was reminded of Kai.

Proud. Honorable. Loyal.

And so irritatingly arrogant.

Micah snarled.

Raising his fist, he focused on his Element and channeled it towards the air Elemental’s head. Unnaturally, the man’s upper body became rigid and unmovable, bones and skin creaking audibly as they froze solid. The man’s screams abruptly stifled, his voice box no longer functional. A choked gasp of surprise sounded beneath the veil, but nothing more.

Micah raised his sword and swung, abruptly beheading the god-possessed air Elemental. He felt no pity towards the vessel. Clearly, the mortal had willingly allowed the possession. As such, he had to die.

As the head dropped and clunked at Micah’s feet, Conway slumped, taking a breath of relief. His eyes blinked drowsily. In one last effort, he raised his hand and motioned behind Micah. The effort was for naught. Micah was already aware of the last air Elemental. Turning, ice danced along his hands and shot through the ground, imbedding the man through the groin. The thick icicle then forced its way through the man’s torso and up through is throat.

A familiar kill method.

Something he’d used during the attack at the capital, but wickedly useful.

The air Elemental gagged exaggeratedly before falling limp, his white robes and veil flapping eerily with the dying wind. Micah watched through jaded, yet hungry eyes as the red-gold aura shot into the dark sky above, leaving the silvery aura of the mortal to blink forever out of existence. A slow, malicious smile curled the edges of Micah’s lips as he admired the body propped unnaturally upon the thick icicle.

He then turned, considering Conway’s breathing, but unconscious figure.

Everything was taken care of, wasn’t it?

No.

No, it wasn’t.

He stalked into the shadows as soon as he took note of the auras of precarious power. Perhaps it was the entity lingering inside Micah’s body. Perhaps it was instinctual. Whatever it was, he recognized the entities entering the bedroom suite.

Cloaking himself like a wounded animal in the shadows, he watched as Josiah and a nameless man stepped through a broken window and out onto the patio. Both men assessed the scene quietly, oblivious to Micah standing behind them like a stalking predator. A very fierce, unexplainable anger ignited within him at the sight of the two gods. While Micah was frustrated with Josiah from time to time, this was far more cemented, far more age-old and mature than the dislike he typically experienced.

He could only compare it to the time he faced that goddess with white hair, except, at that time, he hadn’t been possessed. Those alien emotions of betrayal and devastation had been so strong. He’d felt wretched. So completely lost and desperate to find a solid pillar.

What he felt now was too strong to describe properly, really. They suffocated and overcame his entire being.

Obviously, the Syphon inside Micah’s body did not like these gods—or gods in general. Hated them. Wanted them eradicated. Micah experienced the back-end of those sentiments but did not let them cripple him. He stood tall as he stalked the two gods in the shadows, recognizing them as Agni and Vayu and wondering why they appeared almost friendly _._

They weren’t attacking one another. They were standing side by side.

_They will always be allies,_ a voice explained to him. _Agni can fool you as much as he wants. Despite their differences, in the end, the Big Four are family._

“Your boy is rather resilient,” Vayu observed, looking at the man skewered by an icicle. “I had to allow them to try, Agni. He is an abomination.”

“An abomination?” Agni inquired tensely. “He is just a child.”

“He may be just a child, but a child with unheard of power.” Vayu turned to stare at Agni with accusation. He was a man—a middle-aged man—of Eurus descent. Grey stained his temples, evident of his vessel’s aging body.

Agni hardly appeared bothered by the scrutiny. “He is blameless. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time during a summoning, a summoning meant for a mere daemon,” he said. “I want you to call off the other gods. Their attentions towards him are undeserved.”

“I do not order around the other gods, brother. They are mere children who act independently. They think it’s in good fun to torment Agni’s mortal pet.”

“You know just as well as I that they tend to mimic both you and Varuna.”

Vayu turned his shoulder on Agni. “There are whispers. Whispers about your mortal. Dushyanta came to me with his speculations and I have to agree with him. The others recognize on a subconscious level, but cannot truly understand what his presence means when his mortal blood obscures them. When _you_ obscure _him_. Varuna and I know what he is. What he is predestined to become.”

“A mortal?” Agni asked with unrestrained humor.

“Do not make me out as a fool, Agni!” Vayu demanded angrily. “It unsettles me to see everything undone!”

“Who says that such circumstances need to be viewed with trepidation?” Agni asked with a cultured whisper. “Echoes of a tempestuous past may follow Ezra’s heels, but the circumstances couldn’t be more different. Your behavior now will predetermine the future, Vayu. Perhaps it is wise to take a step back and not make enemies so quickly.”

Vayu and Agni surveyed the other, the former in a state of disbelief.

“Is that a _threat_?” Vayu demanded.

“It is merely words to consider,” Agni countered.

Micah hadn’t made a single sound, yet both gods suddenly turned and spied him standing confidently behind them. It was challenging to keep the scorn off his tongue. The Syphon wanted to speak so _badly_. The hate and the abhorrence burned across Micah’s body as if it were his own. He could only stand stiffly, his eyes nearly unfocused as he struggled to hold it in.

“You hear me?” Vayu inquired cruelly, revealing his dislike. “I will come for you. Agni will not always be standing between you and me.”

“On the contrary, you will always find me standing before him,” Josiah murmured in response. Though he spoke to Vayu, his attention focused keenly on Micah. Orange eyes narrowed suspiciously as he looked from the bloody wound on his side back to his face.

“Don’t you have anything to say, boy?” Vayu pressed as Micah continued to suppress the Syphon’s urge to speak. He scoffed, his chest puffing out conceitedly. “He’s intimidated by us, isn’t he?”

Micah closed his eyes against the sudden onslaught of fatigue. Nausea bubbled in his gut as the Syphon moved restlessly, eagerly. The entity within him was growing increasingly stronger and Micah found his control slipping.

“Get out of him,” Agni commanded harshly.

Micah opened his eyes, finding his sword lifting without his consent and pressing against his own throat. Across form him, Josiah’s eyes widened almost comically before they narrowed into slits. The gold pendant around Micah neck turned warm, almost unpleasantly so as Agni revealed just a sliver of his true aura.

“You wouldn’t _dare_ ,” Agni hissed.

Amusement that was not his own bubbled within Micah upon Agni’s reaction.

But then the amusement withered and died into slow, calculating suspicion.

As if to goad the fire god further, Micah watched as the sword dropped and instead ran across his opposite palm. A sharp, stinging pain blossomed as his skin split open. “Does it bother you, Agni?” What passed his lips certainly wasn’t his own voice. It was grainy, hoarse. “Not being in control? You’re powerless.”  Micah raised his injured hand and made a fist. Blood rained readily down his palm and wrist, but nothing ever made contact with the patio. It disappeared in midair, fueling the entity steadily taking control of his body.

Vayu appeared perplexed.

“I may be powerless, but Ezra is not. He has every capability to throw you out,” Josiah said pointedly, most likely trying to reach Micah and inform him of the power he subconsciously possessed.

“That he does,” the Syphon agreed readily. “But as you said, he is only mortal.” Something of great humor bubbled inside the god eater at the mere mention of the word _mortal._ “The more I take, the stronger I get and the weaker he becomes.”

“A Syphon,” Vayu hissed furiously.

“I cannot sleep long enough. It is always too soon to see you again, Vayu. You’re as sharp as ever.”

The wind picked up significantly and Vayu made an advancing step forward. He appeared irate, undoubtedly, yet there was a flicker of what appeared to be apprehension. Apprehension over an entity that could harm him. _Him._ A god! Surely there should never be anything higher. Before Vayu could advance further, Agni threw out an arm and intercepted him, his entire hand engulfed in crimson flame. Vayu looked at the flames and then to Agni’s protective position in front of Micah.

“You cannot be serious, Agni. It is a _Syphon._ ”

“You cannot kill it, you know this. You would only succeed in destroying Ezra.”

“That is my intention.”

Agni smiled slow and dangerous. “I don’t believe so.”

Micah doubled over as the pain in his hand and side became too much. The Syphon did not want to leave. The entity still had a considerable amount of strength he could achieve by draining Micah dry. But this was _his_ body.

_You took enough,_ Micah informed heatedly. _Leave me. Now._

Surprisingly, the Syphon heeded the order.

Albeit reluctantly, the entity stepped from his body, bringing with him the destructive emotions, but also the strength. Falling to his knees, Micah gazed up at the face made of stone. Unnerving silver eyes glimmered luminously in the dark, as if they belonged to a cat. The Syphon’s cracked and sunken face was just as unreadably blank as his eyes as he gazed down at Micah. He was as solid as Micah had ever seen him, yet he knew the entity was far from full strength.

The god eater then turned to Agni and Vayu. “There will be a reckoning,” the entity promised quietly. “We cannot stay asleep forever. The age of gods will crumble. What you fear…” The Syphon’s hand nearly touched Ezra’s forehead. “Will surely come to pass.”

Vayu blinked away his disbelief before laughing outright. Josiah merely observed the Syphon, his emotions in check.

“There is just one of you,” Vayu stated with amusement.

“For now.”

“You are too weak to do anything,” the air god continued haughtily. “You’re sucking mortals dry for a few days of strength and cogitative awareness. Rest assured, Syphon, we will have you caged before long.”

The god eater looked at Micah and then back to Vayu. “I must repeat what Agni said. Be careful to mind your actions, Vayu. You. And your brother.” The entity slowly began to fade, yet his luminous eyes seemed to hover behind. “Because you will surely reap what you sow.”

As if the Syphon’s parting promise was a soothing lullaby, Micah closed his eyes and allowed himself to fall.

 

*** * * ***

“Here.”

Kai accepted the piece of flesh and gnawed on it ravenously.

The man crouched down and watched him unemotionally. “Underneath the pretty guise, mortals are just wild animals, aren’t they? Beasts. Ravenous and mindless without proper order.” He turned and looked at the others hovering around the raging fire. The flames nearly reached the high, arching ceiling. “I bet we could cut flesh from his own body and he would gladly eat it.”

“Let’s do his pretty face.”

“Or his hands.”

“Of course he would eat it. He is not in his right mind. He is complacent.” The man across from Kai hunkered low in submission as Ember entered the cavern. She cast a look around at the others and they silenced abruptly. “You can play later,” she said. Her mismatched eyes landed on the half-eaten corpse near the fire before regarding a disassociated Kai. “We need to prepare him for the ritual.”

“Is it true you consumed Kapardi?” one of the women asked.

Ember simply gazed at her, unimpressed. “Agni all but hand-delivered him to me. I couldn’t resist, now could I?”

“I wonder what Agni would taste like,” someone murmured.

“Probably like fire… not particularly appetizing, but nourishing.”

“You’ll never find out what Agni tastes like, as you do not have the ability to consume a god.” Ember spoke to them as if they were children, her tone exasperatedly resigned and patient.

“I heard he grounded himself in the mortal realm,” a man stated, sounding far more intelligent than the others. “Made himself vulnerable for over twenty years. We had no knowledge of such an incredulous event. Imagine if a Syphon had the opportunity to consume one of the Big Four. Your power would be vast.”

Ember smiled grimly. She reached over and placed a hand on Kai’s head as he accepted another piece of flesh. “And this little mortal will be the facilitator to our rise. Daemons will no longer have to hide away. We will once again serve a purpose. We will be able to release all the others from their penitentiaries.”

Their stares all grew haunted with the mention of the others. A sense of somberness hung in the chamber, and yet, a very quiet, almost fearful hint of anticipation spread.  

The anticipation was contagious.

Kai found himself becoming just as eager.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There mayyyyy or may not be another update before next weekend ;) I mean, it is Halloween on Wednesday, after all.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**18\. Chapter Eighteen**

 

“The Eurus Empire proclaims the attack on Concordia’s royal prince was a result of a domestic extremist group,” Josiah spoke to Micah’s barely conscious form. “They apologized profusely. Healed you and replenished your lost blood, while simultaneously attempting their best with Captain Edlen’s several fractured bones. They then sent us on our way with armed guards and gifts for Calder. A flimsy and futile hope that the king will somehow overlook the attack on his heir. Calder will only use this as future leverage.”

Micah’s unconsciousness slipped from his grasp at Agni’s words. His awareness thrummed and wavered, but eventually sharpened and persevered. Gifts for Calder, Micah mused in his mind. Perhaps they were similar to Calder’s gifts to the Eurus Empire.

Packaged in coffins.

Micah kept his eyes closed as he responded to the man sitting at his bedside. “The rulers of all the kingdoms are going to run out of scapegoats. It’s extremely challenging trying to explain the actions of reprehensible gods.”

Josiah did not respond to that. Judging from the very soft lull of movement, Micah assumed they were already on the train back to Concordia. Somehow, being back in the confining palace with stiff and overbearing noblemen seemed more agreeable than their political tour. He just wanted to go home. He never thought he’d experience nostalgia for his gilded cage.

“They’ve certainly exhausted the excuse of Magi being responsible,” Micah continued, opening his eyes.

“Yes, your precious group of activists.” 

“They are innocent.”

“As are you,” Josiah countered. “Innocent. Naïve.”

He did not raise his voice, but Micah detected the disapproval. Obviously, Josiah was going to address Micah’s decision to propose a Noir User remedy to the High Priests without first consulting him.

Micah glanced at the man at his bedside. Their current positions reminded him of their first interaction, back when Josiah abducted Micah from Region 20. At the time, Micah was just as bedridden, recovering from healing a dying Master Idris. They’d come a long way since then. And in a sense, they were also in the same exact position. A relationship built on lies, deceit, and underlying motives.

“They aren’t responsible for the attacks they’ve been accused of,” Micah stated. “They also weren’t responsible for anything to warrant a near extinction twenty years ago. You were simply upset they tried to control Josiah and claimed your mass execution was a proactive response to prevent future upheaval.”

Josiah considered him coolly before suddenly leaning forward in his seat. “It is called black magic for a reason, child. They harness the darkest part of themselves and embrace it.”

“You practice it.”

Josiah simpered deviously. “Exactly.”

Micah shifted and struggled to sit up. He refused to be flat on his back for Josiah. The wound at his side was stiff, having already started the process of healing, whether by Eurus’ healing or Josiah’s hand, he did not know.

He forced himself against the headboard.

“They also killed your friend.”

Micah resisted the temptation to flinch upon the mention of Keegan. “I’m not saying they’re innocent. They’ve committed acts I disapprove of, certainly. I just believe we’re fanning the situation rather than containing it.”

“I will let you in on a little secret.” Josiah clasped his hands together like a mentoring and patient father. “The number of _true_ Magi practitioners is quite abysmal. Before the gods started making an appearance and causing mayhem in the mortal realm, the modern day ‘Noir User’ is actually an extremist who refuses to abide by strict cultures. Consequently, they band together and dabble in black magic in order to wreak havoc. They are not true practitioners. They just want to create chaos and scream so loud, others will hear the unfairness they’ve experienced.”

Micah frowned.

Josiah continued. “Kingdoms proclaim acts of terror are the result of Noir Users because it prevents them from addressing underlying issues in their capitals. It’s a lazy governing practice.”

Micah narrowed his eyes. “You’re suggesting Noir Users are essentially intangible.”

Josiah inclined his head. “Citizens who are upset enough over something in their kingdom typically commit acts of terror. Monarchs—or any ruling body— whether that be democracy or priesthood, deal with the issue clandestinely while telling the public it was the result of Noir Users. They want to instill fear in their people.”  

“To prevent unification and mutiny,” Micah finished numbly. “Noir Users have become a mere legend, smoke and mirrors for political conspiracy. They’ve become the nation’s number one enemy everyone, even with all our differences, can stand and oppose. Together.”

Josiah hummed agreeably in his throat. “True Noir Users are few and they are smart enough to practice independently and in secret. They would appreciate your defense, child, but it is not something to publically stand behind.”

“Then what about the Eurus Empire? And Terra Kingdom?” Micah narrowed his eyes doubtfully. “Having publically supported them—”

“They publically accept their people _learning_ the art,” Josiah interrupted. “It is political. They want to give their people a semblance of freedom. If the Eurus Empire followed your suggestion, and housed those interested in learning Noir Magic, they would only invite in rebels with a penance for destruction. Not true parties interested in actually learning the art. Those individuals have run into the shadows and would be far too leery of a monarch, like you, extending an olive branch.”  

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”

Micah had already known kingdoms used the excuse of Noir Users as a cover up to the truth, for things they could not explain, yet he hadn’t realized it was this far spread. This common of an occurrence between the other kingdoms.

“I was truly curious to see what stance you would take,” Josiah replied unconcernedly. “Despite what you may believe, I don’t want to consume your individuality. Conversely, I never anticipated that you would take such a passionate stance for a group of declared enemies.”

“Declared, but not proven,” Micah argued.

Noir Users, _true_ Noir Users, may be small in numbers, but they did not deserve this treatment.

Josiah adopted a peculiar expression. Micah paused at the expression, never having seen it on Josiah before. He didn’t know if the man was disappointed or satisfied with his opinion on the subject. It was difficult to discern any sort of emotion from the Igni king, and yet, the man had to be disappointed, didn’t he? It was the whole reason behind their current line of conversation.

Yet….something so indescribably intense swirled deep within Josiah’s eyes.

It was gone a moment later.

“Nonetheless, your opinion will not be looked upon highly in Concordia. Being a Noir User sympathizer is entirely out of the question if you sit on that throne.”

Micah withheld any sort of temptation to sigh. “Because I need someone to blame if my people begin rebelling.”

“Precisely.” Josiah’s smile revealed teeth.

“Unfortunately, they’re already rebelling and I haven’t even touched the crown.”

“The majority of unrest is because of Dushyanta, you know this.”

It was more than that. They both knew that. Race. Culture. Age.

Change.

Micah stared ahead, his thoughts turning back to the Syphon and the gods he’d met during the tour. Ever since their departure from the Terra Kingdom, and the conversation he had with Prithvi, something heavy sat on his mind. The earth goddess suggested something—hinted at something—that made Micah feel extremely unsettled. He had to ask. He had to make sure.

The words teased his tongue before he finally said them aloud.

“Do you want to turn me into a god?”

 _Was there even such a possibility?_ Could a mortal be turned into a god? How would it even be possible? His words hung in the air, unanswered, but heard loud and clear. He didn’t turn to look at Josiah. He could already feel the eyes boring onto the side of his face. Whether those eyes were mocking, amused, or repelled, Micah did not want to see it. He would hear the answer soon enough.

“Why do you ask questions you already know the answer to?”

Out of all the possible responses, Micah had never anticipated this. “Why?” he demanded angrily.

Josiah exhaled softly in amusement. Rather peculiarly, he seemed to take the cool, unaffected approach in opposition to Micah’s fiery temper. “I’m not entirely certain what you’re asking. Why? Why do you ask questions you already know the answer to? I wouldn’t know, child.”

“Why _me_?” His tone made it clear he wasn’t in any mood to play games.

“It is the anticipation you become a god, yes, but it is not set in stone,” the man replied ambiguously. He adopted that kind of tone Micah knew to identify as half-truths, half-lies. “You were created for a purpose. If you do not live up to those expectations, however, you will die a mortal. Likewise, if you are killed too soon, it is out of my hands to resurrect you into a deity.”

Distaste curdled his saliva upon the words.

He turned to stare at the man. “And what I want doesn’t even matter?” he asked icily. “You make it sound as if I should work hard to reach those expectations. As if it is some sort of reward to strive for.” Micah’s lip curled. “But it’s not. It would be a punishment. I _never_ want to become a god. _Ever!_ ”

Something flickered in Josiah’s eyes, something akin to a minuscule flash of disbelief before he expertly veiled it. It was almost as if the man had never considered the possibility of Micah renouncing the very idea of becoming a deity.

The Igni king remained silent for quite some time. His expression was as sharp as ever, his eyes absorbing far more than appropriate, yet Micah knew the wheels were turning in his mind at an alarming rate. The man was trying to calculate his next move, trying to determine how to respond to Micah’s declaration.

In the end, blasé indifference settled across Josiah’s expression. He stood up and looked down his nose at Micah. “A mortal who does not fear death and who spits on the gift of immortality. You truly are something else,” he whispered taciturnly. “You do not wish to be a god. Then you shall not be a god.”

Blinking, Micah watched as the man approached the exit. “What was I created for? My purpose?”

Josiah paused and gazed at him with veiled monotony. “Does it matter?” he drawled indifferently. “I will find another.”

Micah smirked, hardly believing. “Is that it? Our game is now over?”

“Game? There is no game, Ezra, there never was.” Josiah clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Your coronation is in my best interests, so you still serve a purpose for my endgame in this realm. Just as you can still use me for protection against the gods, no?”

Without another word, the man exited the compartment.

A dull thud of disappointment and bitterness overwhelmed Micah as he stared at the closed door.

_I will find another._

Extreme possessiveness and jealousy flushed him hot. Inhaling deeply, Micah tried to suppress these feelings. His hands trembled wildly and he realized just how much turmoil Josiah could inflict with only a few words. He wanted to act out. Lash out. Subconsciously, Micah knew and acknowledged he was replaceable to a god. Yet, he never truly realized nor admitted how much he enjoyed being the center of Agni’s attention. It made him feel powerful, indestructible.

_No, no, no!_

This was just another game. Josiah wanted Micah to feel this way. He wanted Micah to realize just how much sway he truly had over him and yearn for it to return. And the man had already succeeded in that regard if Micah’s shaking hands and roused jealousy was enough to go by. Then again, perhaps this wasn’t a game. Josiah was an immortal entity, after all.

He could very well create another mortal with the destiny he had intended for Micah. A couple decades would be nothing to him when he could find a mortal willing to reach and obtain expectations for immortality.

Just _why_ was Micah created? What was Agni looking for?

He remembered Prithvi’s comment on the terrace. How she compared fire and ice and suggested Agni enjoyed challenges. It’s what made him finally accept the conclusion that Josiah wanted more from Micah than simple political gain. Moreover, just recently, Vayu indicated he knew what Micah was, what his presence meant while the other gods remained ignorant. Whatever Micah’s purpose was, Vayu did not approve.

Prithvi seemed more agreeable to it, however, which perplexed him.

It didn’t matter, really.

The very idea of being a god was disagreeable. Living forever seemed tedious and frightening. Really, living forever with other _gods_ was perturbing. He despised all of them, found them unimpressive and arrogant.  

No.

He calmed himself and his negative emotions eventually smothered into mild irritation. While Josiah’s dismissal bothered him, Micah would not change his mind. If this really was a ruse, and Josiah was just waiting on Micah to admit he really did want to be a god, then the man would be waiting forever.

Micah could also push and see how far Josiah was willing to play this ruse.

Conversely, there were so many things to do at the capital.

Let Josiah play the game with himself. Let the man find another. Micah would be too preoccupied to care.

 

*** * * ***

 

“Quite the tour.”

Days after his altercation with Josiah, Micah found himself standing stiffly before Calder. Rather unpredictably, the man was actually in an office without any noblemen or advisors breathing down his neck. As soon as Josiah and Micah arrived at the capital, they were summoned to Calder’s personal quarters. Clearly, the man would give him his evaluation of the political tour.

Micah anticipated low marks.

“It was a very informative tour,” Micah responded promptly. He knew the man was displeased, but he wasn’t especially concerned over it.

Calder looked up from his book to observe Micah. “Lose the tongue. _Now._ ”

“I understand why you are upset,” Micah persisted, hardly bothered with the man’s temper. “But I was thrown into this situation without proper groundwork or training. My actions are a direct reflection of how little you care to share with me. How ignorant I was.”

Calder closed his book with an abrupt _snap._ “Lord Josiah, please give me a moment alone with Ezra.” 

Micah did not turn around, but he heard the door click shut a moment later.

Placing down his book, Calder stood from his desk. “You are bright enough to understand that this tour was a test of sorts,” the man said. “Your uncle and I wanted to see how well you adjusted, adapted, and behaved yourself. In short, how you presented yourself as the royal prince of Concordia. Your mother trained you. You were not entirely clueless. We wouldn’t have sent you if we didn’t think you were capable of acting on your feet.”

“A risky move to test the waters with the other kingdoms, don’t you think?” Micah asked.

Then again, Calder believed himself the superior kingdom. To know he used the Terra and Eurus kingdoms as a test platform for Micah’s stumbling adjustment just proved how little he regarded his political relationship with both cultures. _Alternatively,_ he had enough confidence in Micah not to screw up. Or perhaps Josiah had convinced Calder of this fact.  

Calder smiled thinly. “Not at all.”

“Evidently, I did not pass your assessment.”

“On the contrary,” Calder started, “The Terra Kingdom had high praise for you. They enjoyed your enthusiasm for their kingdom. You fit in well there, but you could have presented yourself as a more reasonable monarch in Concordia’s eyes.”

“And the Eurus Empire?”

“A complete failure.”

A self-satisfied smirk curled Micah’s lips. He had expected nothing less.

“You think this is funny,” Calder observed sternly.

“No. An assassination attempt and several casualties of your royal guard is hardly a laughing matter,” Micah replied seriously. “But I imagine you’re actually far more upset over my comment to the High Priests regarding the Noir Users.”

“You spoke entirely out of line!” Calder shook his head once, anger pinching his features. “How could you even consider proposing an alliance, a safe haven, for those criminals? After what they just did to our capital? To you? Are you _thick_?”

Thick _and_ long, Micah wanted to say.

He erased the humor from his expression entirely.

“I spoke as an individual.” Micah watched as Calder approached him. “It will take time to realize that I no longer speak for myself, but rather for Concordia as a whole. I realize why you are not pleased. While part of the blame should be on you, as you haven’t trained me on how best to conduct myself as a proper monarch, I should have possessed more intuition with the Eurus Empire.”

“Time is not a luxury you have been granted, Ezra.” Calder stopped in front of him, perhaps the closest he’d ever been before. Features that mirrored half his own softened gradually. “I was happy to hear you were safe after the attack in Eurus,” he expressed quietly. “Just as the attack at the capital, my first concern was your wellbeing.”

“Political backlash a close second.”

Calder appeared particularly exasperated at Micah’s sarcasm. “We haven’t spent much time together. We haven’t had the opportunity. I would like to change that. I’d like to get to know you.” The man smiled faintly. “It is a bit difficult interacting with a son who is already a man, one who has power, sharp wit, and fierce independence.”

Micah knew he was treating the man unfairly and sought to loosen his defenses just as Calder was clearly attempting the same.

He gazed at his father, tracing over his imposingly handsome, but cold features. Calder undoubtedly attempted to appear approachable, yet he could never truly shake his image of total and untouchable regality. He wondered what life was like for Calder. Growing up as a child, his father probably endured far more challenging and brutal training regimens than Micah had with Ember.

Calder probably lacked a nurturing environment entirely.

Conditioning, programming, and brainwashing, were all factors Calder most likely experienced since a toddler. While Agni was a very large influence on molding Micah, he acknowledged the god’s assertion that he did not want to consume Micah’s individuality. Calder, on the other hand, would have no such privilege with his caregivers and paternal advisors. They would expect things within the same mold as his previous predecessors. They would seek to destroy _his_ individuality.

Therefore, Micah could not fault Calder entirely for his frustrations involving the capital, involving politics. Yet, there was something about Calder. Something he couldn’t put his finger on. He had his assumptions that there was a very small flame of individuality remaining strong within his father. They hadn’t stifled his flame completely.

He wondered what Calder was really like underneath his sense of blind justice to uphold a strict, albeit structured monarchy system that he’d been conditioned to uphold since birth.

“As a child, I never held delusions of fanatical relationships with my parents,” Micah admitted to his father. “Ember was clear you and I would never know each other as father and son. Likewise, my relationship with her was often times cold with sporadic dashes of nurturing admiration. I never knew what to expect from her.”  

Calder frowned, his azure gaze forlorn. “That is unfortunate to hear.”

“I tell you this not to garner pity or false consolations.” Micah smirked. “I’m telling you this to put you at ease. I don’t expect you to step into a fatherly role with me.”

Micah wondered how Calder interacted with Ladon while growing up. Considering Ladon was around the same age as Micah, either Calder rejected another child in lieu of his missing son, or he considered Ladon a replacement and kept him close. If Micah had to choose, he imagined it was the former scenario.

Calder wasn’t a warm figure.

Micah had far more distant memories of Josiah as a child than he did with his father. Josiah—Agni—had always treated him affectionately.

The thought now nearly made him recoil.

“Even so, I hope you won’t hold it against me if I still wish to get to know you.” Calder reached out and placed a hand on Micah’s shoulder. “There is so much I need to teach you. I have a legacy to pass on and that cannot be accomplished from a distance.”

Clearly, Micah hadn’t failed too badly at his tour, otherwise, he imagined they wouldn’t be in this current predicament. Calder wouldn’t be angling toward a more intimate relationship.

Micah regarded his father closely. He could see the stiff lines at the corners of Calder’s eyes. Not wrinkled from age, no, but out of tension. The way he held his shoulders also indicated he was overwrought. “There is something you’re not telling me.” Micah smiled very softly, in victory, he supposed, for reading his father correctly. “But you don’t know if you want to broach the topic.”

Calder removed his hand from Micah’s shoulder. “Perhaps it’s best I tell both you and Josiah at the same time.”

His father brushed past him and approached the door to the corridor. Micah looked after him briefly before turning back forward, his own shoulders tense as he felt both men reenter the room. As much as he wanted to avoid interaction with Josiah, he was reminded once again that their situation required almost constant collaboration.   

Said man saddled up next to him.

Calder, meanwhile, retreated to his desk, revealing the half braid in his hair that allowed the rest of the length to fall down his back. As he turned back around, a good majority of the pale strands curtained over his shoulder, drawing attention to his dark, opposing robes. “Against my better judgement, I have allowed _this_ to continue.” He lifted a gloved hand and motioned between Micah and Josiah. “I had assumed, because of your Chosen status, it was something I had to tolerate. To bite my tongue and bear.”

The king placed both hands on his desk and braced himself against the heavy piece of furniture. Micah and Josiah watched him in silence. Neither of them said a word as Calder evidently struggled with what he would say next.

“I know you are not Chosen.”

Micah lifted a brow in disbelief, acknowledging the silence as it stretched into an awkward pause. No one was going to fill the pause with the false confessions or shocked justifications Calder most likely wanted to hear. The king looked between Josiah and Micah, clearly growing exasperated with their continued silence.

“And how did you go about this revelation?” Josiah inquired silkily, humoring the man.

“From Ezra’s real Chosen.”

Micah’s eyes turned half-lidded as he thought of Haken.

The young man clearly had nerve.

“Don’t,” Calder warned as he observed Micah’s coiled posture. “He came to me and requested I be in the same room as both you and him. I saw the way you mirrored each other. The strain on your part.”

“Hardly evidence of Chosen, Calder.” Josiah’s response was dangerously quiet. “Whomever this man is, he wants to create a wedge amongst royalty. Such a revelation will cause an upheaval in court.”

Calder exhaled and sat down. “I thought the same.” His deep blue eyes glanced at a silent Micah. “However, he promised his silence. He only wanted me to pledge my protection if you were to ever find out, Josiah.” Here, he gazed pointedly at Josiah. “Any thoughts on this revelation, Ezra?” he inquired. “You’re awfully quiet.”

Quiet, yes, simply because Micah didn’t know what to think. If he and Josiah weren’t at odds, he might have felt a bit angrier, a bit more insulted. As it was, he wasn’t feeling particularly pleased the truth was now out either. 

“I don’t have a preference either way,” Micah responded, bored.

“So you are suggesting that Josiah is not your Chosen. You are an Elemental. You should reciprocate the sensation and know immediately if he is your other half. Someone who makes you stronger—”

“Stronger?” Micah repeated with disbelief. He suddenly animated. “Chosen are meant to cripple. Make them dependent and reliant upon another person. It is means for weak men to achieve higher power without obtaining it for themselves.”

“A sensation you’ve clearly felt,” Calder murmured. “Which begs the question of _whom_ it is directed towards.”

“Does it really matter?” Micah asked sharply before scoffing. “This is ridiculous. You already know Josiah and I are not Chosen. What would you like me to say?”

Calder interlocked his fingers under his chin and surveyed the both of them. “The fact that you never said anything to dispute Josiah’s claim makes me believe you found said claim favorable.” Displeasure tightened at the corners of his mouth. Actually, he appeared unwell. “Which makes me believe the relationship you share with your uncle is far from platonic and every bit inappropriate. Is it sexual?”

The back of Micah’s neck burned at the audacity. “I don’t think that is relevant.”

Calder’s eyes flashed. “Misdirection in this capacity clearly means _yes._ ”

“No, it’s not sexual,” Micah said quickly, firmly. It was enough to loosen a minuscule amount of tension in Calder’s shoulders, and yet, Micah knew the man was more than aware of their physical attraction. Perhaps he’d just wanted a false admittance. “The reason I didn’t say anything is because, I too, can acknowledge the backlash this revelation will bring if others find out he is not my Chosen. I haven’t decided how I wish to proceed yet. As of now, it works just fine in my favor.”

Calder sat back against his chair and surveyed the two.

His fingers tapped relentlessly against the desk, as if wondering the true extent of Micah’s claim. “Your claim on the royal prince, a mere child at the time, indicates your intentions were merely political,” he said, looking at Josiah. “The power disappeared from your hands and you so desperately sought to grab anything you could to reobtain it.”

“By claiming a bond with the royal prince?” Josiah seemed amused. “I suppose you could suggest it was something like that.”

Calder appeared unimpressed at the indefinite conformation. “Clearly, I acknowledge this situation, and how best to proceed, should lie with you, Ezra. No matter how much I may disagree with it, _disapprove of it,_ you know what you can and cannot tolerate in terms of a relationship with your uncle behind closed doors. As it is, there are several suitors vying for a chance of becoming your consort. Several prominent families, of both Igni and Unda descent, have approached me. Chief Heres also suggested you and his daughter would make a fine match.”

Micah’s jaw tensed. “I wasn’t under the impression I had to choose a consort so soon.”

“Many people are waiting to see who will be the future joint leader of this kingdom. It is a very critical and delicate decision.” Calder’s pause was heavy. The way he looked at Josiah caused Micah to stiffen. “In the occasion of joining with Josiah, there are significant political advantages—”

“ _No_ ,” Micah snarled.

Calder couldn’t be _serious._ He’d just discovered Josiah had lied about his status as Micah’s Chosen. Now he wanted to encourage them to be consorts. Ludicrous!

“He is already proclaimed your Chosen,” Calder continued calmly in face of Micah’s rage. “The political fallout would be enormous if anyone found out he’d made a false claim. There are whispers indicating a full support of the Igni culture if you were to join with him.”

Micah’s spine was so stiff it ached fiercely. “I said my relationship with him wasn’t _sexual_.”

“Ezra,” his father intoned gently. “Consorts can be entirely political and not at all sexual. You—”

“An Unda woman as my consort would garner full support of the noblemen,” Micah countered.

Desperately.

“No, it would not guarantee any such thing,” Calder responded serenely.

“It would calm things,” Micah said. “Joining with _him,_ ” here, he pointed at Josiah, “Would ignite a stronger reaction.” He glanced at Josiah, noticing the man appeared blissfully unaffected by the current line of conversation. In fact, he appeared delighted. “Actually,” Micah mused thoughtfully, feeling particularly vengeful over his next proposal. “Gaia would prove to be a better political option. She is of a different race, something new, and something that would cause pause to both the Igni and Unda culture.”

The man did not disappoint. Josiah slowly looked at him, his eyes ablaze with animosity. “Foolish child,” he scolded. “That would simply rise ire amongst your entire kingdom.”

“On the contrary,” Calder began, “That option cannot be ruled out, Josiah.”

Micah gloated and turned back to Calder. “It would cause an unwavering alliance with the Terra Kingdom. Something I know you would like very much for this kingdom.”

Calder was still young. He had several decades ruling Concordia in front of him. Micah was no fool. He may never rule Concordia entirely. As of now, and until Calder’s death, he was just Calder’s chess piece. A chess piece with its own power, of course, but an object that Calder could move around the board nonetheless. If Micah played his cards correctly, his coexistence with Calder needn’t be miserable.  

“Do not assume we are ignorant to your intentions, Calder.” Josiah looked at a smirking Micah. “We both know you savor the taste of power and yearn for more. Overtaking the Terra Kingdom, at this moment, would only be disastrous for the kingdom.”

“As would your reputation if others discovered you are not Ezra’s Chosen,” Calder countered with ease.

An eye for an eye. A threat against a threat.

Both men had the other ensnared.

“For the time being, it appears as if we are in a stalemate. Ezra, it is only appropriate you do not engage your Chosen on personal matters, do not encourage him, and do not make any public standings on a consort. We do not need to act on this particular topic before your coronation.”

Micah shuddered as he tried to respond, but found he could not.

Calder stood from his desk, his features wrought with concern. “Ezra?”

A red-gold web flashed in Micah’s vision, washing him cold. Unable to control his body, he pitched forward helplessly. Tremors danced up and down his limbs and a sharp pain pinched the small of his back and spread wildly. Arms caught him before he hit the floor, though he was hardly aware of his surroundings.

A child screamed.

Suffered.

Wide, yellow eyes and blond hair immediately branded him as a biracial child. Sweat gathered across his forehead, and eyes, once alight with torment, glazed lifelessly.

Micah came back to himself with a sharp inhalation.

The web disappeared from his body and he blinked dazedly.

“Micah.”

A hand placed itself against his forehead, pulling him back to the present. Josiah gazed down at him, searching for answers. Ruefully, Micah realized the man cradled him in his arms like some discarded and wretched toy.

He pushed the older man away, feeling mortified. “It’s fine.”

“It certainly didn’t appear _fine._ ” Calder observed as Micah scrambled to his feet. “Is there something we should know about—” A sharp knock at the door interrupted Calder. He gave one look at Micah, seeing he was recovered, before addressing their visitor. “Come in.”

A guard dressed entirely of navy blue robes, stepped inside the office. “Your Majesty, Your Highness,” he addressed with a stiff bow. Etiquette would demand him formally greet royalty before he explained the reason behind his presence. “There is a… situation on the front steps of the palace that requires your immediate attention.”

Before the words even left the guard’s mouth, Micah pushed his way out the door.

He ignored both Josiah and Calder as they called after him. Blood roared in his ears. Rage. Fear. He knew. He knew what this was concerning. He just hoped he was wrong. Sprinting through the hallways, he cared little for what the observers thought of him. Micah had to see for himself before they hushed it up and veiled his eyes.

“Your Highness, please, you cannot go out there.” One of Calder’s guards stood in front of the doors leading to outside.

“Spare me the decorum,” Micah growled. “Let me pass.”

The man’s lips turned into a grim line. “I cannot do that, Your Highness.”

“You heard the prince, let him pass.” Calder appeared down the corridor.

The guard appeared properly chastised as he hastily stepped away.

Micah did little to show his frustration. He was too distracted with what waited outside.

As he stepped out into the brisk air, he first spied the growing crowd. Men, donned in military uniform, pushed back the citizens to a respectful distance. Meanwhile, several other military members stood motionlessly on the steps, their purpose to block the public’s view of a crumpled figure. Above, a nasty and glowing web flared to life.

Ignoring the shouts of the crowd upon his presence, Micah raced down the steps. A child, no older than five, lay motionlessly on the steps. A familiar-looking man bowed over the child and gently probed the boy’s neck with gloved hands.

Upon realizing Calder’s presence, Healer Destan stood up. He nodded solemnly to Micah, but his focus was on the king. “A second,” Destan confirmed despondently. “Same symptoms.”

Micah peered down at the boy. Similar to his vision, the child had bone-white hair and a tanner complexion than a purebred Unda. If Micah were to see the eyes, he’d imagined they’d be bright yellow. Cheeks, plump with baby fat, appeared blue, as if he’d been dead for hours. “A second,” Micah repeated numbly. He looked at his father. “There was another? Another that lay on the palace steps like discarded trash? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Calder’s lips thinned and he adopted a forbidding façade upon Micah’s lip. “We believed it to be an isolated event. It was just one victim _._ Clearly, with two bodies now, it indicates a real concern. The implications are unnerving. It is not a safe environment for you, Ezra.”

Micah’s eyes lingered across the child, feeling something akin to desperation bubble in his stomach.

“Is the boy’s parents being notified?” he inquired.

“We are locating them as we speak. It won’t take long. The boy was looked after properly. I don’t imagine the parents will overlook his absence,” Destan supplied. He seemed hesitant.

“Tell me,” Micah demanded sharply.

Destan glanced at Calder. “The last child’s parents were found dead. Same condition as the child. A toxin.”

Micah glanced sharply at Destan upon the man’s admission. What he wanted to say fell from his tongue and withered to nothing. The priests at the Eurus Empire were right. The gods— _Dushyanta—_ planned to punish Micah’s very existence by obliterating those just like him. This was something he could not fight. Could not beat alone.

Under the luminous red-gold web, Micah turned and approached Josiah. “I want him gone.” His request was quiet, but an underlying tenor of strength blazed wildly. “I don’t care what you have to do. I want you to find him.”    

Josiah regarded him with silent calculation.

As Micah made a move past him, Josiah took his arm captive. The fingers that curled around his bicep were bruising. Mischievous orange eyes caught his. “That will come at a price. A price of submission on your part.”

“Is that how this relationship will work now?” Micah asked quietly. “Denouncing—no— _spitting_ on your gift of immortality now makes our rapport a give and take tug of war?”

“I scratch your back, you scratch mine.”

Micah felt disgust crawl its way up his throat. He was certain it showed on his face.

“Fine.” He pulled his arm from Josiah and retreated back up the stairs.

Orange eyes gleefully followed his departure, only, said glee darkened into predator-like focus as they turned to deliberate the skies.

 

*** * * ***

 

Vayu would do nothing further, having reconnected with his brother. Agni, the cunning schemer, somehow twisted Vayu to his favor. At least long enough to give himself and his pet project time to flourish. Prithvi refused to acknowledge the child’s existence for what it was. Varuna would undoubtedly take his siblings’ lack of action and follow suit with quiet observation. Varuna was an observer. He would test the waters, but in the end, he was not a proactive god.

Dushyanta knew he would have to stand on his own.

He crouched further down as Agni’s sharp focus flickered to the skies. The fire god wouldn’t be able to see the web, yet this fact did not comfort Dushyanta. To destroy the web, he’d have to be weakened or injured. He had no doubt Agni would be able to succeed in that feat.

Normally, Agni did not concern himself with affairs that would demonstrate his power.

But Dushyanta heard the stories. He felt the power. Saw the power. Knew it was there. Agni was not to be mistaken for a weak god just because he did not demonstrate his power often. The thought of having such whispered and alleged power focused on _him_ made Dushyanta hunker even lower and quickly plan his next step.

He could leave and retreat to his realm. His web would stay in place, safe and sound as it continued to influence hundreds of mortals. Yet, he knew, without a doubt, Agni would follow him there and he’d be far, far more powerful in his own realm.

Dushyanta could very well call this all off. He could destroy the web he’d constructed, retreat to Agni with his tail between his legs, and confess his surrender. Upon considering that scenario, he instantly pushed it aside as he watched Agni’s young ward retreat up the stairs of the palace. The boy could not grow into power.

Which left him with the only other option.

Escalation. Hiding. Agni could not destroy the web without first getting his hands on Dushyanta. He would have to create safe havens throughout the capital that would veil him from Agni’s notice. Fortunately, the one thing working in Dushyanta’s favor was the reduction of Agni’s power due to their current surroundings in the mortal realm.

Nothing was impossible.

He would see this evil destroyed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **LONG NOTE:** Chapter Nineteen should be up shortly as well.... a triple update weekend! I'm going to attempt to post these chapters as soon as I'm done editing them. So some weekends/weeks may only be one update, others several updates.
> 
> As some of you may know (ha, Swan), when I started posting Immunity, I'd already had everything written up to Part 3. Which explains the fast updates. Since posting, I've remained in exactly the same spot in Part 3. Stuck. I'd like to get back to /writing/... and to fix that block, that can only happen when I get all of you up to speed to where I am. Updates may not be as frequent, but I don't anticipate they will be too much time in between. I'm really interested in finishing Immunity. 
> 
> A huge thank you to all of you who take the time to review-- your support means the world to me ♥ This chapter (18) and next (19) are kind of the 'lull' before we start picking up momentum. 
> 
> Alright, enough talk.... o.O


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**19\. Chapter Nineteen**

 

Neutral tans and golds decorated the council chambers. Micah found little to appreciate in the neutral wash, with the exception of the large table. Wide, rustic planks made up the table top, polished and gleaming with deep cherry undertones. It was handsome. It was also the focus of his attention during the tedious summit.

On one side, six Unda councilmembers sat with the Igni members directly across from them. Naturally, Calder occupied the head of the table with Josiah sitting at the other end. Micah, on the other hand, sat on Josiah’s right. He assumed, once he took the crown, he’d take Josiah’s place at the head.

For now, he was content being invisible. Better to observe others this way.

So far, he’d made eye contact with Sachiel long enough to know the man wanted to speak with him privately after the meeting. Hopefully, he had good news regarding Kai. On the other hand, Micah preferred Kai was _not_ news. That he’d been at the academy long ago.

Cain’s mother—Cordelia Abital—also nodded her greeting. Seeing her reminded Micah of his team and it made him yearn to see them. It wasn’t long since he’d last seen them, yet it felt that way. Even though Calder prohibited his return to Concordia Academy as a student, Micah would visit. He needed to make sure they were still functioning without Micah there to push them.

Aside from Sachiel and Cordelia, the two Eldens were also familiar faces this morning. Both of whom proved as hostile as ever.

The men suppressed outright scowls, though Micah imagined he knew internal disgust well enough to see it reflected in their emotionless eyes. Those two, along with the two other Unda men, could barely swallow their distaste for Micah. Underwhelmed with their silent act of intimidation, and particularly uninterested in the dry topic of Concordia’s financial revenue, Micah nearly nodded off. 

“I apologize,” Muriel Edlen abruptly exclaimed. His voice pierced through the dull veil of financial and monetary conversation. “But it appears as if we are boring His Highness. Perhaps we should adjourn so he can take a nap.”

Micah deliberately looked up from the table.

He was stiff. Sore. Healing. Uncomfortable and very, very irritable. Today, the robes he donned were confining and buttoning high upon his throat. Very flashy and uncomfortable, not his typical style. Nevertheless, like most days, they picked out his attire before he woke, colors and styles planned specifically for the event occurring that day. He didn’t deny they were attractive robes.

Micah reached over and calmly placed a gloved hand on the table.

“I admire the craftsmanship of this table,” he declared tersely. “Where was it built?”

A stunned and confused silence met his inquiry. Across from him, the Unda nobles all shifted to hide their elation.

“The Terra Kingdom, Your Highness,” the Igni councilwoman replied promptly.

For a moment, Micah stroked the table, allowing the jarring and awkward silence to stretch for just a bit longer. Unsurprisingly, the table originated from the Terra Kingdom. The kingdom had such superior artisanship and materials, did they not? Perhaps he could contact Delegator Barth and request a table for his rooms.

He was sure Barth would simply preen at the request.

“I apologize,” Micah mimicked Muriel’s earlier apology almost to the very same high note of nasal arrogance. “Perhaps you thought my question nearly as jarring as Councilman Edlen’s earlier interruption about naptime.” He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Next time, please do not disturb the meeting.”

Someone snickered audibly down the table at Micah’s sarcasm.

Barely-there pink stained Edlen’s cheeks. “It was an appropriate inquiry, Your Highness,” the man defended. “You haven’t said a word.”

“And why should I inject during my first meeting?” Micah drawled resignedly. “It is my intention to listen and absorb. Learn the ropes, as they say. But my… what dust-collecting ropes those are.”

“What are you implying, Prince Ezra?” Sachiel asked politely, his eyes alight with amusement.

“Simply that things seem redundantly the same.” Micah waved a gloved hand. “Finances… gold… we have those in abundance. A very good thing if catastrophe hits and we must rebuild, but a poor way to recover from the war.” From what little he paid attention to, it seemed, judging from the lackluster reactions of Concordia’s ridiculous profit, that the nobles never _did_ anything with the money.

“The war was over twenty years ago,” Muriel informed snottily.

“Is that right?” Micah sat up, feigning intrigue. “Twenty years ago, you say? Certainly could have fooled anyone who walked past Region 5 and into the outskirt regions. Poverty is a palpable odor. To an outsider, the war just ended there.”

The Unda men all looked amongst each other, their mouths upturned with smug knowing. Micah watched through lowered lashes, hardly impressed with their comradery. Evidently, he had said something predictable in their eyes. Perhaps he had. He was always going to be the ‘outskirt sympathizer’ in their eyes.

“We’ve tried sending larger financial assistance to the outskirt regions.” Surprisingly, an Igni man spoke. “Unfortunately, it seemed to spark a higher rate of rebellion. Death. Destruction. They find our contribution insulting.”

“Instead, money is often times funneled through Concordia Academy in order to expand on resources,” Cordelia informed.

“An entity with already a ridiculous amount of money invested,” Micah argued. “The least the capital could do is accept more scholarship students.”

“Which only sparks further division and discrimination,” Sachiel explained neutrally. “You’ve seen it with your own eyes, Your Highness. You’ve experienced the division between scholarship students and children of nobles. Scholarship students do not keep up.”

“Because they _can’t_ ,” Micah disputed fiercely. “Because we put a cap on the number of first-year cadets and eliminate the bottom ranking.”

“The academy is only large enough to sustain a specific number,” Calder reasoned. “That is why we cut so many numbers the first-year.”

“Understandable,” Micah agreed. While Concordia Academy was large and impressive, most of the amenities were what took up so much room. The living quarters for the cadets weren’t particularly large. The first-year wing was tight and confining at best. “But we could benefit from some reorganization. Especially among the older cadets to make room for more scholarship students. The academy is centralized on nobles who have trained since youth to excel in these first-year trials. Scholarship students walk into the situation blind.”

“What of you?” Seaton asked with a self-serving smile. “You were a scholarship student, Prince Ezra. You seemed to have adapted well enough. It seems to me as if the scholarship students have just as equal opportunity as the rest.”

Micah stared with incredulity. “You know I was an exception.”

“An exception? Why?” Seaton lamented. “Because you trained hard in preparation? It appears as if those who understand the severity and importance of Concordia Academy perform well enough. That is the purpose of the academy. To turn out only excellence.”

No one seemed inclined to assist Micah on this particular issue. They all avoided eye contact, keeping their lips pressed closed. He understood, he supposed. Concordia Academy was a source of pride amongst the nobles. A symbol of prestige and honor. Suggesting changes without proper research and specific solutions would not yield results. He would build a damn new school if he had to.

“Fair enough,” Micah conceded. For now. “Concordia Academy is an establishment of status and prestige. It is not to be touched.”

“I am pleased you have come to that conclusion, _Your Highness,_ ” Muriel purred. 

Micah saw red.

“While we may have recognized that the academy does not need attention at this time, I would like to return to our previous topic.” Josiah’s serpentine voice navigated easily through the tension. “The outskirt regions and the poverty.”

“We’ve already touched on that, Lord Josiah,” one of the Unda councilman spoke impartially. It had to be Wayde’s father. “Funneling more money to the outskirt regions only encourages more uprising, more rebellion.”

“I would like to hear Ezra’s contribution,” Josiah countered serenely.

Micah refused to look at the man.

Currently at odds with Josiah, Micah did not appreciate his false support in front of the Royal Council. Nonetheless, the outskirt regions needed attention. In order for that to happen, Micah had to swallow his pride and accept Josiah’s hand. “I would actually prefer to readdress Councilman Oriel’s earlier suggestion,” Micah said. “The one that was immediately rejected despite the practicality behind it.”

Down the table, Councilman Oriel straightened as the attention fell on him. He looked down at Micah, inclining his head. “Increase in military?” He’d pitched his question so softly, it nearly echoed.

“The very same,” Micah intoned.

Poor man. He wasn’t used to others acknowledging his ideas.

Oriel licked his bottom lip and cleared his throat. “I believe there should be an increase in military presence in the outskirt regions.”

“ _Precisely_ ,” Micah crooned. “Perhaps we can now turn it over to Councilman Edlen, who will no doubt offer a reason why this particular proposal would not be beneficial.”

Seaton lifted a lip at Micah’s mockery. “Of course you would side with Igni ideals,” he said.

His comment caused an upset tremor across the table.

“Is that truly the best you can do, Seaton? Cry partiality?” Cordelia insulted.

“On the contrary, Councilman Edlen, I side with constructive ideas,” Micah stated with matter-of-fact. “Which reminds me, I have yet to hear anything constructive coming from your mouth. Criticism without merit is rather unimpressive, don’t you know?”

The stares Seaton and Muriel leveled him were impressively lethal.

“Children,” Calder called to attention, his voice chilling the members at the table. It certainly was enough to force Seaton and Muriel Edlen to sit more firmly against their chairs. “Let’s play nicely.”

Micah lifted his chin and smiled serenely at the Edlen siblings. For far too long, these men, and men just like them, got away with stunting the growth of the kingdom. They stifled the potential newcomers who harbored good ideas. All because of their name and their long ancestry. Unfortunately for them, Micah was born with a title higher than they could ever achieve. They could try to touch him, but in the end, monarchs overruled nobles.

For the first time, Micah actually enjoyed the power a monarchy system offered. He wondered if that enjoyment would grow more profound the more he used it. He wondered if it would go to his head and make him a tyrant or complacent like Calder.

Such power was both dangerous and intoxicating.

“Ezra,” Calder murmured.

Micah gradually looked away from his prey and toward his father.

Calder watched him steadily. His cerulean eyes were alight with subtle delight over his son’s antics. “Explain to me, please, how an increase in military presence will erase the poverty in the outskirt regions.” 

“It won’t erase the poverty,” he replied irritably. It was these damn robes. “No one here can possibly comprehend the living conditions in the outskirt regions. No one. You can all sit on your high horse and deem yourself sympathizers. You can all claim that you know the statistics.”

He looked at the Igni councilmembers. They appeared grim, yet attentive. Micah was speaking to them, after all, not the Unda noblemen. These men and women were sympathizers to the outskirt regions, yet they were extremely naïve and inactive.

Lethargic.

Did they not see they had power too?

“Seeing the numbers on paper is easy, but when you live there, you see it happen. The rape, the child corpses, and the corruption.” His eyes drifted over to the Unda side of the table. “But they’re just desert rats. They’re not truly a part of your kingdom.”

“That is not true,” Calder argued with a surprising amount of insistence. It made Micah wonder just what the man experienced with this particular subject. Perhaps he was missing a piece to Calder’s past attempts with the outer regions. “They are every bit a part of us. Just a bit more difficult to try to assist.”

“You’ve abandoned them,” Micah retorted passionately. “As have _you_. Especially you.” He looked to Josiah, taken aback with the smoldering gaze levelled with his own. The man did not appear angry. He appeared _captivated._

Micah turned away, losing his passion, his anger. The man’s concentrated regard had paralyzed his senses. “There is no military presence in the outskirt regions. There is no capital or royal presence,” he continued once again, albeit far more levelheaded. “They are bitter with the palace and will spit at the funding you give them. They are proud. That is why I propose starting with military presence. In the meantime, I will find a way to improve the poverty. I will produce a proposition that even Councilman Edlen cannot argue against.”

“A compelling argument for increasing military presence,” Cordelia Abital said kindly. She offered closed-mouth smile to Micah. “I find myself in favor of Prince Ezra’s and Councilman Oriel’s proposition.”

“As do I,” Sachiel added.

The Igni councilmembers also nodded their consent. That’s when Micah saw the realization cross the faces of Muriel and Seaton. In this room, amongst the king and his Royal Council, they were outnumbered. 

Calder sat back in his chair and gazed down the table at Josiah. “So we will try this once again with increased military. Will you create a military itinerary for the outskirt regions and present it to me by the end of the week?”

Micah lingered on the man’s words, dwelling over the fact that they had tried this before. Perhaps he was a bit too passionate, a bit blind to the history behind the palace’s previous efforts. Yet, they clearly hadn’t tried hard enough to cure the problem. Persistence often yielded the best results, even to a stubborn race like the Igni men and women.

“It would be my pleasure,” Josiah said.

“This does beg the question of who will be the new military general.”

Silence met Muriel Edlen’s inquiry. Micah’s gaze sharpened on the man. He wasn’t aware Calder was replacing Josiah as the general. Judging from the reaction of the others, they hadn’t either.

“Do not mistake the Chairman of Concordia Academy to the general of the military, Councilman Edlen,” Calder informed tightly. “Lord Josiah is taking a reprieve from the academy, but still remains the military general. As far as the chairman position, I have narrowed down my potential candidates. I will make the announcement shortly.”

Micah looked to Sachiel with veiled bemusement, only for the man to shake his head once. It would appear more things had changed since his departure from the capital. A change best discussed behind closed doors.

“I believe it is time to adjourn.” Calder stood and the others all scrambled to stand at attention. “We look forward to hearing your proposal for the outskirt regions, Ezra.”

The king turned and retreated from the room.

Nodding to Sachiel, Micah followed his father just as quickly. He hardly wanted to stay behind and perform political games with the councilmembers. Spending two hours in their presence, talking nonsense, was enough for him for one day.

Navy-clad guards peeled away from the wall and encompassed Calder like a moving wall. As soon as Micah entered the corridor, the crimson-clad guards all shifted, half of them following at his heels while the other half no doubt waited for Josiah.

Micah did not oppose the human barrier.

He was beginning to realize that some things weren’t worth rebelling.

“I see it’s time for the change of guard.”

Micah glanced over his shoulder, spying a familiar Unda warrior with his high ponytail and conceited expression. He slowed and Josiah’s royal guards all shifted to accommodate the change of direction. “Captain Edlen,” Micah greeted dryly. “Last time I saw you, you were a crumpled heap of fragmented bone.”

Conway exhaled through his nose. “Water Elemental healing,” he explained cockily. His dark eyes assessed the Igni guards standing at Micah’s side. “Last time I saw you, Your Highness, you were in the heat of battle. Took a while to _cool_ things down, didn’t it?”

“Creative pun on words.” He sized the other man up. “While it is a pleasure seeing you resume your role as Calder’s captain, I’m afraid I met my daily Edlen quota for the day.”

As soon as he said this, the corridor suddenly grew congested. Muriel, Seaton, and their two pawns exited the council chambers.

“I had to speak with you. Privately.” Conway kept his eyes focused on Micah, intentionally ignoring his blood relatives as they passed in the corridor. 

That instantly piqued both Micah’s interest and suspicion. “Indeed?” He watched Muriel and Seaton disappear down the corridor. “By speaking to me so publically and informally, you are essentially waiving yourself the enemy.”

“My loyalty is with the king, to the crown,” Conway said in the same, robotic pledge Micah was familiar with. “You saved my life. You didn’t need to. Especially after our less than civil discussion, you could have turned a blind eye.”

Oh, no. They were going to get sentimental. Declare each other blood allies. Micah placed a gloved hand against his jaw, contemplating. Now that he thought of it, saving Kai’s life also garnered the boy’s respect and loyalty. It must be an Edlen tradition. If he pushed Seaton in front of an oncoming train, and later saved him, would the Edlen patriarch also pledge his loyalty?

Certainly an intriguing possibility for later.

“Think nothing of it,” Micah responded promptly.

“Kai needs you.”

That gave Micah automatic pause. His exasperation dissipated, and in its place, a dark, predator-like instinct flourished. “I had someone looking into his disappearance during my absence from the capital,” Micah explained quietly. “Are you telling me it is something more than a simple relocation?”

Conway glanced down the corridor, towards the crowd of politicians. “I don’t know much about it,” he confessed. “I’ll try to find out more. There are whispers amongst the family that Kai had to prove his allegiance.”

“Sounds barbaric and feudal. Would Seaton kill his only son?”

Conway’s eyes shuttered. “I wouldn’t think so, no.”

“But you’re still concerned.”

“I don’t know Kai well. Never have,” Conway said. “I’m not concerned, but I feel as if I owe you and I know you two are close. Something seems off about the whole situation.” Pushing off from the wall, he brushed shoulders with Micah. “I will try to find out more.”

Feeling particularly despondent, Micah turned and found Sachiel approaching him down the corridor. The man did not get very far with so many guards between them.

“Sachiel.”

“Councilwoman Abital would also like to join us, Your Highness.”

Micah found himself once again a loss for words. Over Sachiel’s shoulder, Cordelia stood patiently. Micah was genuinely surprised the Abital matriarch chose to align herself with him. She was a powerful woman. Seaton and Muriel Edlen surely tried courting her first. They’d be fools not to. Either Sachiel was _that_ persuasive or Cordelia had her own intentions.

Micah’s attention wavered to the group of Igni nobles who crowded compulsively around Josiah _._ The only other female councilmember, aside from Cordelia, gazed at Micah as she spoke to the Igni king, saying something that spurred the others to all look Micah’s way.

He did not appreciate their fond and keen gazes.

He could only compare it to a pack of dogs. Micah was a cute, adorable addition to their litter, a companion they would indefinitely welcome. Only, Micah wasn’t really like them. They recognized he’d grow to be an alpha dog. Unfortunately, their loyalty was already with one alpha.

“No matter what I say or do, I fear as if there will always be a division.” Micah held out his arm for the two Unda elites to join his side. “A very clear and sharp partition. Lines drawn in stone. Eyes do not see a leader, but rather someone that resembles them.”

“It is mere child’s logic, Your Highness.” Cordelia walked with him as they retreated toward his personal quarters. “We may be adults, but I’m afraid rationality isn’t always the driving force behind our allegiances.”

“Rather, it is an age-old element.” Sachiel clasped his hands behind his back.

“Blood?” Micah speculated.

Sachiel smirked and inclined his head. “And tradition.”

Micah pondered for a moment. “Muddled between two traditions, two royal bloodlines, I find myself facing a long, lonely road.”

“Lonely? Hardly. You’d be surprised how many grow tired of remaining stagnant.”

Micah glanced at Cordelia. “Is staying stagnant a negative element when that immobility continues to offer them contentment and control?”

“Not everyone is content, Your Highness.”

“Will those unhappy and miserable people support me?” Micah mused warily with a hint of mirth. “I can lead a group of eccentrics. Unfortunately, I don’t foresee a very constructive outcome to that situation.”

Sachiel and Cordelia exchanged looks.

Micah immediately regretted his cynicism.  He was frustrated, but it was vital to contain it. Both Cordelia and Sachiel approached him on their own free will, a sign of loyalty. And he’d just called them eccentrics.

“This isn’t like you,” Sachiel admonished, his tone unusually harsh. “Those who support you are passionate that this kingdom can be better and they actively want to change it. Much like you. It seems to me that you’ve just taken a beating and need some good news.”

“I have not submitted, Sachiel,” Micah replied darkly. “Nor have I taken a beating. I have just realized that my plans for this kingdom may be a bit too overenthusiastic.”

“You _cannot_ cure the outskirt regions in one council meeting,” Sachiel retorted heatedly. “There will be obstacles. Obstacles larger than the ones you faced in the council room today. It will take time. Patience. And people willing to make a difference.”

Micah did not respond. He did not feel obligated to carry this conversation further amongst a sea of crimson-clad Josiah supporters.

Several minutes passed in silence before they came upon Micah’s rooms. One of the guards opened the door first, performing a quick, visual inspection of the interior before allowing them entrance. As Micah ushered Cordelia and Sachiel inside, he made to close the door. Only, two identical Igni guards caught his attention.

Twins.   

Their bright amber eyes watched him intently, never losing their concentration even as the door closed. Micah couldn’t help but to envision two cats with wide, unblinking eyes. Something about them appeared wild, untamed.

He placed a hand against the closed door, contemplating.

“We’ve been hard at work during your political tour, Your Highness.”

Micah scoffed. Turning away from the door, he appraised Sachiel. “You know to call me Micah.”

 

*** * * ***

As the door closed, the uptight lift of the prince’s shoulders relaxed, as did the tension around his mouth and eyes. Cordelia watched as a new, playful light entered those pale eyes, stimulating her interest and fascination.

This was an entirely different person.

_You know to call me Micah._

His youth burned into her cognizance. An excruciatingly noticeable trait. How could it not be? She had a son around the same age. While Prince Ezra looked like a man, spoke like a man, and acted like an adult, Cordelia would inevitably see him as a child. Yet, there was another side to Ezra. He was also royalty. She expected him to behave like a typical monarch. Untouchable, indestructible, perfect.

Someone without flaws.

 _Not_ a child.

Only, Ezra did have flaws and he was a child. He was unproven and quick to temper. His tongue was sharp and bitter. While he generally handled himself well enough, there were instances when he faltered and his youth became painfully evident.

Cordelia concluded that someone with such opposing titles— a child, a royal— could never meet expectations. He could not be a child without expected to behave like a prince. He could not take the position of a prince without others viewing him as a child. Many nobles shared this outlook. Nobles whom she’d hoped to garner on Ezra’s side. They had trouble seeing him because he represented two opposing identities:

Igni and Unda. Agni’s child and Varuna’s child.

Child and Leader.

After much deliberation, Cordelia focused on readjusting her outlook on the young man. Titles could not apply. He was just _Ezra._ Someone without social constraints. Someone who demanded respect but someone who could harbor flaws.

This young man represented possible revolution.

It was appropriate he would not fall into typical social hierarchies.

“You know I prefer to call you Ezra. Far more regal,” Sachiel replied informally. Ridiculously informal. “Micah is the name of a desert rat.”

Cordelia’s focus sharpened contemptuously.

The prince smiled, taking no offense. It was as if he’d expected and anticipated Sachiel’s response. “Sit. Please.” He motioned toward the far end of the suite, towards the roaring fireplace and the several posh seating arrangements.

Cordelia stood by a chair closest to the fire, but refused to sit before the prince.

Sachiel, despite his informality, surprised her by following her lead.

Ezra appeared amused as he sat hastily, motioning once again to the seats. “I have to say that I am grateful for your presence, Councilwoman Abital.” He clasped his hands together. “Is this something I can anticipate as a regular occurrence? Or, perhaps we can talk about what needs to be done in order for that to happen.”

Cordelia, sitting at the very edge of her chair, lifted her chin as the smooth and charismatic words washed over her. Yes, he would do just fine, wouldn’t he? “Please, call me Cordelia,” she insisted.

“Then we can all drop titles behind closed doors,” he responded captivatingly.

Some were gifted with natural charm. Calder’s son was one of those rare specimens. Charisma suffocated Ezra like a second skin. She supposed, even if he wasn’t trying, he’d be socially appealing. Even Cain, who wasn’t particularly impressed with politics, like his father, indicated that _something_ drew him to his team captain. Something he couldn’t explain urged him to work hard to impress Ezra.

He said the rest of the team felt the same.

Cordelia experienced this sensation during her first interaction with the prince. She’d understood Cain’s confusion. It was similar to charisma, but it felt much stronger. Lord Josiah possessed something very similar.

“I want to be frank with you,” Cordelia started, well aware of Sachiel watching her closely. “Seaton and Muriel approached me and offered me political asylum before they began dismantling your allies. I had a choice. I chose you.”

Ezra blinked slowly, his sharp gaze unwavering. “Dismantling?” he inquired dangerously soft.

“Over the better part of two weeks, during your absence, your allies, or potential allies, have been under attack,” Sachiel informed. “They’ve faced obstacles designed to scare them away from endorsing you or even thinking of endorsing you.”

“You and I spoke of this briefly before the tour.” Ezra nodded once. “You indicated it was possible my team and their families were targeted. Were they?”

“They were.”

Cordelia watched as Ezra’s features froze into unblinking impassiveness. A quiet and noiseless anger. “You were dispelled from your position as Chairman to Concordia Academy,” Ezra concluded quietly. “Under what pretenses, exactly? How did they make that happen?”

Cordelia turned to Sachiel with an uplifted eyebrow, intent to watch him explain the circumstances. Even now, Sachiel did little to hide his enthrallment with the prince. His observable captivation was not healthy, nor was it proper.

“Liaisons with the students,” Sachiel admitted. “You in particular.”

Ezra emitted a harsh laugh. “And they were able to convince Calder of this?”

“Of course he doesn’t believe it, but he needs to throw his nobles a bone occasionally.” Sachiel sighed. “I was the martyr. They will go after my position on the Royal Council next. The same for Cordelia. Calder will be more inclined to dismiss that request. So far, his anticipated refusal to bend is our only saving grace.”

Unique, ice-like eyes turned in her direction.

“You observed how they were outnumbered.” Cordelia watched the prince closely. “They will work hard to make sure they appear as a majority.”

“Even though the king has the last say? This is a _monarchy._ ”

“Calder has a reputation to lean towards the majority,” Sachiel explained. 

“Even so, it will always be divided with the Igni nobles.” Ezra looked between the two of them. “Josiah has them all under his thumb.”

“Again, that may be so, however…” Sachiel trailed off and crossed his legs. “If there is ever an equal division amongst the Royal Council, the king will lean towards the Unda elite. He always has. I do not see him changing his habits.”

“I will speak to him.” The prince stood from the chair. “I don’t foresee him removing you or Councilwoman Abital from the Royal Council.”  

Cordelia fought the etiquette that demanded her to stand in the presence of royalty. The prince did not intend to leave the room, however, but rather pace back and forth. His steps were slow, tense, and purposeful. He felt caged, she knew, and she did not blame him.  

“Before we go further, I need to know about Kai.” Ezra looked pointedly at Sachiel. “I had expected him to be here when I returned.”

Sachiel’s face did not even flicker, but Cordelia knew the man was discouraged he could not provide the prince with what he’d desired the most. He and Prince Ezra had a very peculiar relationship. This went beyond Sachiel’s gluttony for pretty faces. She knew Sachiel better than most. Typically, the man shied away from forming allegiances. He was entirely out for himself, often times hiding behind his loyalty to Calder. By working so intimately with Ezra, he was stepping outside his comfort zone.

“Both Cordelia and I were told he’s in Region 5, Ezra,” Sachiel said. “There is another military school there. Less prestigious, but far more intensive. Far more secure. Seaton would send Kai there in order to reestablish his control over his heir.”

Unsurprisingly, Ezra shook his head. “I don’t believe it.”

“They say Kai went willingly. Seaton threatened disownment—”

“Kai would gladly accept disownment,” the prince interrupted.

“You forget that Kai was my student. I know him well.” Uncrossing his legs, Sachiel leaned forward, perhaps just as restless as the prince. “There is a possibility he agreed to attend the school in order to play Seaton as a fool. I have a contact in Region 5 who is remaining tightlipped despite my attempts at reaching out. She is not responding to me and they would certainly prevent me from entering the school.”

Cordelia watched as the prince considered the information. “I want to see him face to face,” Ezra demanded. “What needs to be done to take him out of the academy and back to the capital?”

“Your word is all I need for extraction.”

Cordelia shifted at the potential political backlash. “He is not yet crowned,” she intervened. “He has no authority.”

“ _Yet._ ” Sachiel appeared especially smug. “His coronation is inevitable. No one will be willing to wager on such an event not occurring. Most would never cross him.”

“You will send word immediately?” Ezra asked.

“As soon as I leave this room,” Sachiel vowed sincerely. He pointed to the chair opposite of him. “Now, sit. We have much more to discuss.”

“I prefer to stand, Sachiel.” Ezra waved his hand. “Continue, please.”

Cordelia and Sachiel shared a significant look. “There is a sense of disquiet in the capital,” Cordelia hedged. “A sort of stale and static atmosphere that is suitable for a storm. Tensions have grown since the war, yet things remained quiet. I can now sense the restlessness. Things are churning, Your Highness, and allegiances are hastily forming.” 

“Allegiances will mark catastrophe,” Ezra murmured. “Under one capital, three separate parties will destroy everything in their wake.”

“But that’s just the thing.” Sachiel adopted a distant, unfocused stare. “Loyal subjects are declaring sides and marking enemies. They have branded the three leaders. Nevertheless, not _one_ of these three figureheads have declared intentions.”

“The pawns are moving before spoken orders.” Cordelia placed a hand on the armrest. “This can be a very dangerous game.”

“No one said it is a game, nor that it will even amount to anything.” Ezra walked towards the hearth and considered the flames. “As you’ve said, my father and uncle haven’t declared anything yet. There may not ever be three separate powers, but rather three monarchs trying to unite their damaged kingdoms fully.”

“The fact that they aren’t saying anything speaks volumes,” Sachiel intervened. “They are allowing their allies to move and gather numbers in preparation. Now is the time to do the same, Ezra. Just in case.”

“What if my father or uncle want the same thing I do? If Calder truly saw me as a potential threat, he would not name me his heir.”

“A mutual alliance with King Calder or Lord Josiah is possible for you.” Sachiel smirked. “As you mentioned, Calder and Josiah have yet to truly make their intentions known. There are several possible outcomes, yet it is crucial to be prepared if you find yourself struggling in the middle between the two. Cordelia and I tested the waters during your absence, feeling for potential allies.”  

“Naturally, we sought after the families of your teammates.” She did not want to be the one to break the news, but it was inevitable and the prince needed to know. “It is unfortunate, but the majority cowered under Seaton.”

“The Abitals have declared their loyalty to you,” Sachiel said. “As have I.”

Judging from the expression on Ezra’s face, the prince easily heard what they did not say. “Both formidable allies,” he contested. “I am fortunate to have you both with me.”

Cordelia laughed delightedly. The prince was lovely. “It is understandable you are disappointed the other families could not follow our lead.” She smoothed out her skirts. “Viktor Sedna’s parents have several children. Seaton merely threatened financial troubles. They were quick to withdraw their public and verbal support from you.”

“You may or may not know this, but Talia Bay’s father remarried,” Sachiel continued. “Her half-sister is promised to an Unda elite.”

“And that Unda elite is close allies with Seaton,” Ezra surmised.

“Exactly.” Sachiel blinked indolently. “Aiden, the only Igni member of your team, was left alone. They don’t deem him valuable enough to waste their resources.”

“That may be a gross miscalculation on their part,” Ezra said. “I do not fault Viktor’s or Talia’s family for backing down. I have never extended the courtesy of meeting with them. Why would they pledge themselves to a stranger?”

“There is a possibility you can reverse their decision.” Sachiel glanced at Cordelia, hesitating. “During your absence, we also discovered a large number of possible allies.”

“Possible,” Ezra repeated the word back to Sachiel, easily identifying the stipulation. “And a large number at that. Please, enlighten me.”

“The Igni people.”

“All of them,” Cordelia emphasized. “Even the high nobility who support Lord Josiah. They anticipate you will make noteworthy changes to the capital. Today, during the council meeting, your words and actions were only proof of that.”

Ezra’s face was eerily devoid of emotion as he clasped his hands behind his back.

“In return for their support, they require what?” he asked tonelessly.

“A union with Lord Josiah,” Sachiel replied easily. “Take him on as your consort. The Igni nobles are speaking with him today about a possible alliance.”

For what appeared to be several minutes, the prince did not speak. Cordelia resisted the urge to look at Sachiel. The man claimed Ezra would not be against the idea of a union with Lord Josiah, yet the silence indicated otherwise.

“Ezra,” Sachiel reprimanded softly. “You like the man. You’re attracted to the man. The same goes for Lord Josiah. He certainly has not made it a secret. Just think of how many numbers would back you.”

“Do you foresee a possibility of swaying the Igni nobles without declaring Josiah my consort?” The prince slowly moved away from the fireplace and approached them. “Surely a few of them are bitter about Josiah remaining inactive all these years.”

“He is their born king.”

“A born king who has fallen short on his duty of protecting his people,” Ezra argued.

“If you are referring to his inactivity in starting another uprising, such action, so soon after losing a war, would have been disastrous for the Igni people,” Sachiel explained patiently. “Even now, with his people so scattered, it would take a very patient and skilled mind to formulate a plan of action.”

“Forgive me for my forwardness, Your Highness,” Cordelia began tentatively. “But I was under the assumption you and Lord Josiah were already… intimate.”

Ezra’s face crumbled with humor. “No.”

“Do not play this game,” Sachiel chastised. “You two are inevitably a perfect match.” 

She nodded. “Chosen.”

After her comment, Ezra’s sharp eyes refocused on her. The young man pursed his lips, allowing the silence to stretch once again. When he resumed, he harnessed an air of impeccable calm. “Declaring Josiah my consort would be to _his_ benefit,” he said. “Regardless of our compatibility or carnal attraction,” here his words were bitterly amused, “I don’t believe we want the same thing for this kingdom. Let me work on the Igni nobles.”

Cordelia tried hard not to preen.

As much as she wanted the prince to have more numbers, a hasty union with Lord Josiah did not offer stability. She had her own suspicions that Lord Josiah would rather destroy Unda than save it. Sachiel, on the other hand, tried to convince her that Lord Josiah’s interests centered exclusively on the prince.

Ezra did not seem obliged to think the same.

“I hear your reservations, but it would be wise to indicate the idea of having Lord Josiah as a consort is not out of the question,” Sachiel advised. “At least at this point. Let the Igni nobles speculate. Get them to eat out of the palm of your hand.”

“Understandable.” The prince sat opposite of them. “You indicated you had good news. While I appreciate your efforts garnering allies, all I hear are dead ends.”

Cordelia nodded. “We have no solid allies for you yet, Your Highness.”

Sachiel turned to her and scoffed. “Please. Do not downplay our—”

“I appreciate your honesty, Councilwoman Abital,” the prince interrupted Sachiel’s tirade. “I wasn’t anticipating a full army of loyal supporters when I returned to the capital. Just an overview of our prospects.”

“And very favorable prospects at that.” Cordelia tried not to smile under Sachiel’s palpable aura of aversion. “It seems as if quite a few Unda nobles are not as loyal to Seaton as he might believe. Many are watching and waiting. They want to see more from you.”

The prince regarded her and Sachiel closely.

Cordelia found an unfamiliar urge to shift and look away from the gaze, an act of submission she hadn’t experienced for several decades. It should have disquieted her, upset her, but she found herself identifying it as a hopeful and desperate feeling. Hopeful that his eyes would focus on her just a bit longer. And what a silly, irrational hope that was. He was so much younger.

She was disgusted with herself.

“Correct me if I am wrong,” Ezra began softly, “But it appears as if the both of you have self-proclaimed yourselves my political advisors.”

“We won’t correct you,” Sachiel murmured.

Ezra offered a small smile as he gazed fondly at Sachiel. “Then I will be blunt and tell you that I expect complete honesty from the both of you. If you are going to act on my behalf, I need to be able to trust you and your intentions.” He paused. “I also realize this position demands something from me. My protection.”

“Protection to our family.” Cordelia looked sternly at Sachiel. “My family.”

“And you will have it,” Ezra reassured. “I appreciate your support. The both of you.” The young man then stood up. “Sachiel, I will speak with you in more depth at a later time. I would like to speak to Councilwoman Abital alone.”

Surprisingly, Sachiel took the dismissal in stride.

Cordelia stood from her chair, watching as the man exchanged significant looks with the prince. Yes, Sachiel would and could proclaim a more intimate relationship with Ezra. After all, he had discovered him long before anyone else.

As soon as the golden warrior exited the prince’s quarters, Cordelia turned her attention on Ezra.

“It is clear you want something more from me,” the prince observed bluntly. “I would like to address it before we go much further.”

“What has you assuming as much?”

A faint smile. “You sacrificed a very prestigious position amongst the Unda elite. A position you most likely had to work very hard to achieve because of your gender. You gave up your security. You put your family in jeopardy. All to support an unproven monarch.”

Cordelia stood at her full height as the young man neared.

“Which begs the question of what you want from me,” Ezra stated softly.  

She wished she wanted nothing. She wanted to prove how much she and Sachiel were alike underneath their startling differences. Just like Sachiel, she liked thrill. She liked challenges. Most the time, that was enough to sate her. Alas, she had a specific request for the prince.

“Just to hear you recognize as much pleases me.” She had to look up to meet the prince’s eyes. “You and I have something in common. We have our own, particular groups we want to protect, to nurture, and to assist in molding them as their best selves.”

“Women,” Ezra concluded wisely.

Cordelia lowered her lashes with coy amusement. “I’ve become transparent.”

“Not at all.”

She looked back up at the young man. There was no skepticism on his face, no sign he found her passion unreasonable. Not many men listened to talk of gender equality with respectful attentiveness. Her husband was one of the few exceptions. It appeared as if Ezra was also a rare specimen.

“I’ve learned to keep my beliefs quiet for years,” she confessed. “My silence on the inequality of women was necessary in order to climb the ranks of a male dominated world. It was very difficult for me. Both to endure the discrimination myself and to also hear it spoken so often and stay silent on the matter. As if it were inconsequential to me that women were treated with little regard.”

“An unfortunate but reasonable sacrifice you had to make.”

Ezra took a step back, effectively loosening the tension coiled around Cordelia’s spine. He sat back down and motioned for her to do the same. She followed his lead. “It is not often men of power acknowledge gender inequality.”

“Instead of handmaidens and royal servants, I was raised by my mother,” the words were cold, detached. “Whether appropriately deserving or not, she garnered my respect. She, and my surroundings, taught me that women and men were two sides of the same coin.” 

Cordelia did not know much about Ember. She was a very young queen, a mere child forced to act as a peace token to a recovering and bruised kingdom. Most the time, palace guards had suffocated and surrounded her. To an outsider, she hadn’t appeared particularly independent or strong. Yet, her son sat in front of Cordelia, a physical contradiction of that assumption.

“I’m not asking you to appoint women positions of power without warrant,” Cordelia hedged stiffly. “They would need to prove themselves worthy. Yet, their current social constraints prevent them from ever achieving such positions. They lack the tools.”

“I agree.” Ezra nodded once. “There are several protocols and procedures we need to improve on in this kingdom. When such an opportunity comes to pass, you have my word that I will work towards establishing equal rights to women.”

It didn’t surprise her as much as it should have that the prince was accommodating with this request. The young man was a revolutionist, after all. He wanted things to change, to rebuild it into something better.

“That’s not all, I assume,” Ezra observed.

Cordelia looked down, considering her hands in a moment of deliberation. She had no qualms her next request would meet more resistance. “It’s not my top request, gender equality is, but to potential allies, this is a very high requisite for you, Your Highness.” With firm resolve, she looked Ezra in the eyes. “Keep the nobility.”

The prince’s expression hardened. “That is a contradiction to equal rights amongst all citizens, Councilwoman, gender and race alike. Keeping nobility is something I cannot stand behind.” 

“It is something I urge you to consider.” She stood from her chair, sensing this conversation was over, least she continue to upset him further. His expression was dark, unapproachable, and every bit frightening. “Just as you plan to formulate a proposition to tunnel financial aid into the outskirt regions, I imagine you can find a way to offer equal rights to all while keeping nobility.” Cordelia curtsied deeply, conveying her respect for the monarch. “Always a pleasure, Your Highness.”

He mulled in silence, perhaps stewing over her suggestion, perhaps deep in thought about something else entirely. Cordelia did not let his silence perturb her. She escorted herself to the door, feeling as though the conversation went well enough despite the last topic of discussion.

“Cain and the others.”

She stopped and gazed at the prince from over her shoulder. The young man now stood from his seat, looking at her closely.

“Without Josiah there, without Sachiel there, will they be safe?”

Pleased with the focus of his concern, Cordelia inclined her head. “I find it unlikely Seaton will act against them when their families have agreed to withhold support to you.”

“Except for Cain.”

Cordelia stiffened. “Cain refused to leave the others behind. My son is a grown man and capable of making his own decisions. For now, I believe your team is safe at the academy. If I hear otherwise, I will come straight to you.”

The prince did not seem convinced. “Have a nice evening, Cordelia.”

Her smile was small, pleased. “And you, Prince Ezra.”

 


	20. Chapter Twenty

**20\. Chapter Twenty**

“I need to speak with him.”

It was too early in the morning for an unfamiliar voice to resonate so loudly from the hallway. Dressed and groomed for the day, Micah exited his quarters quietly, assessing the situation through weary eyes.

“You need to make an appointment like everyone else,” one of the guards exclaimed, blocking Micah’s line of sight. “Lingering outside His Royal Highness’ personal quarters is an extreme lapse in protocol. You should know this.”

Micah gazed past the wall of royal guards, catching the eyes of a young Unda female.

She perked up. “Your Highness, I need to speak with you!”

“You can make an appointment,” he murmured. He began walking down the corridor, surrounded once again by Josiah’s guards. After the stimulating conversation with Cordelia and Sachiel yesterday, Micah had little patience for further politics, especially so early in the morning. Especially with haughty, young aristocrats.

“Kai would be disappointed you put rigid protocols before his wellbeing.”

Micah did not even slow, amused the Unda nobility thought they could use Kai against him. “I already have men assigned to retrieve him. I’m afraid you’re a bit too late.”

“If you heard he was in Region 5, you’ve been deceived.”

 _That,_ however, made him come to a gradual stop. He nodded tensely to the Igni guards, nonverbally asking them to give her enough leeway to approach him. She did so with a proud gait and an uplifted head.

“And you are?”

She bobbed her head and curtsied deeply. “Brooke Glyndwr, Your Royal Highness.” As she rose back to her full height, she kept her long neck inclined, as if told to remain as submissive as possible in front of royalty. “My father—”

“Is a councilmember, yes.” Micah pressed his lips together. “What about Kai?”

“I wasn’t sure you’d care, truthfully.” She flattened her hands down her skirts and feigned indifference. “Kai claimed he has such a bond with you, but who knew if it was reciprocated? Everyone would like to claim a bond with royalty.”

Micah doubted Kai spurted nonsense about bonds to women like Brooke Glyndwr. While Micah did not know her relationship with Kai, Kai was far too proud to admit any sort of attachment with anyone, least of all _Micah Egan._ “What information do you have?” Micah tried again, struggling to calm his rising irritation. “What is it you want in return for the information?”

“Do I have to want something in return just for doing a good deed?” Through thick, black lashes, she looked coyly up at Micah. She studied him intensely, tracing over his features with a keen, interested eye. “Kai was my betrothed.”

“Was?”

“Was,” she repeated with a hint of bitterness. “My father took it upon himself to null the arrangement. My hand now belongs to Muriel’s son, Nereus, a more fitting puppet to Seaton and Muriel’s twisted tirade.”

Micah could not stifle the scoff. “I feel sorry for you.”

Her eyes flashed sternly. “With all due respect,” she started icily, “Your pity is both unsolicited and unwelcome, _Your Highness_.”  

There was a vixen underneath that delicate, made up face. Micah observed her for a moment before shifting, giving her proper attention. She didn’t appear to be blindly following her father’s political views. The fact she declared Seaton and Muriel’s regime as a ‘twisted tirade’ was further proof of that. He did not doubt she had information on Kai Edlen that others would not be privy to know. Most head of the families would not bother to concern themselves with a young female knowing their secrets.

Most men did not know the extent of power those pretty decorations adorning their halls possessed.

“What is it that you want, Miss Glyndwr? And please don’t tell me this information is out of the goodness of your heart.”

She glanced at the Igni guards and back to Micah. “May we take a walk?”

Micah offered his arm and she quickly placed her hand in the crook of his elbow like a proper lady. Fortunately, as they started walking down the corridor, the Igni guards were smart enough to give them distance.

“I want to handle things on my own,” she said listlessly. Her eyes stared straight ahead, a sort of glazed countenance only seen on dolls. “If that may prove unsuccessful, I want your protection, Your Highness.”

Everyone wanted his protection.

All too soon, his protection would be stretched too thin.

“That’s all you want?”

“Is it truly that disbelieving?” she asked sharply, almost as if she were insulted. “I suppose it is,” she consented languidly. “I am a noble from a proud, elite bloodline, yet I support you. I don’t blindly follow my father. Above all else, I want Kai back here. He’s already spent far too long in the outer regions by himself.”

Micah stopped and grabbed her hand, squeezing it firmly. She did not flinch. “He’s where?” he demanded. “The outskirt regions? Sachiel and Cordelia both informed me he was in Region 5, enlisted in their military school.”

“That’s not nearly as poetically vengeful as what really happened. Seaton believed he could reestablish control by making Kai realize just how fortunate he was to be born an Edlen. To reacquire the taste of silver on his tongue, so to say.” Brooke’s lips twisted unattractively. “He forced Kai out of the capital just before your tour.”

Micah wasn’t even aware of turning and fleeing down the corridor until a hand seized his elbow, holding him back.

“Please keep my name out of this,” Brooke implored.

“I will.”

He tugged back his arm, his rage nearly overwhelming. In a daze, he crossed through the palace corridors and climbed down several staircases to arrive at the main hall. The second floor gallery usually housed several members of the royal court. They treated the prestigious hall as if it were some sort of mess hall.

He barely recognized Josiah speaking with the Igni councilwoman at the foot of the staircase. They spied him descending the stairs and the older woman smiled invitingly, most likely eager to speak to him. In fact, she took a step away from Josiah to intercept Micah. Her mouth opened, her posture screamed invitation, but Micah plowed past her.  

His attention zeroed in on Seaton Edlen, who stood pompously down the corridor amongst a number of his Unda peers. The man preened and laughed as if cotton were stuck down his throat. Micah bumped shoulders rudely with the men encompassing Seaton, pushing through the crowd to stand opposite of the Edlen patriarch.

The laughter died and the stares grew contemptuous.

“Where is he?” Micah demanded quietly. “Where is Kai?” He prowled closer to the man, invading his personal space. Seaton had the audacity to appear perplexed and victimized as Micah stopped a hairbreadth away.

“Excuse me?” Seaton proclaimed.

“Perhaps I need to speak slower,” Micah annunciated the words. “Where is Kai?”

The others surrounding them became invisible. All that stood before him was a pitiful man who thought he actually had a chance opposing Micah. How laughable. How pathetically whimsical.

“That is none of your business.”

Micah smiled slow and vicious. “You do not want me as your enemy.”

Seaton blinked at the blatant and spoken threat before gazing pointedly at the observers. “Look around you, Your Highness. My numbers are quite substantial. The few allies you had the potential of courting easily tucked their tail between their legs and cowered at my feet in submission.”

Some men chuckled agreeably with Seaton’s portrayal. Amongst the loudest to laugh was Micah.

That instantly quieted them.

“You misunderstood me.” He turned somber. “I said you don’t want me as your enemy, Seaton. That entails a personal and exclusive rivalry. Just you and me.” While Seaton was the taller man, Micah felt a wave of power and a sense of control as he neared even closer. The air grew cold and Seaton’s breath turned visible. Despite the warning signs, the older man did not lose his haughty expression.

“Let me ask you again,” Micah whispered. “Where is Kai?”

Seaton exhaled dramatically. “He is in Region 5, Your Highness. Where he—”

He tapered off with a choked heave. His hands went up to his throat, a universal gesture of choking. Only, his airways weren’t clogged, they were slowly freezing over with ice. As much as Micah wanted to completely freeze the man’s head, and swipe it from his shoulders, he knew it was imperative to keep control.

It was difficult. Reigning in his temper, his worry. Kai was stranded in the outskirt regions, entirely isolated. They would see a capital boy, a blue-blooded noble. Just Kai’s appearance would garner untoward attention. 

Seaton fell to his knees.

And some _fool_ decided to use their water Element on Micah.

Blinking at the useless puddle of water on the ground, near his feet, Micah turned in the direction of Muriel Edlen. The Elemental had his hands in the air, appearing almost perplexed his attack did not work.

“ _Fool_ ,” Micah chastised. “Are you too proud to believe I am immune?”

Muriel’s expression folded into fury and he attempted another attack. Micah felt no remorse as the man’s water Element froze around his arm, encasing it in a large block of ice. Taken by surprise by the heavy weight, Muriel slumped to the ground with a pained scream and an audible snap as his bone broke. 

Unaware of the others stumbling away from him, Micah crouched down and grabbed a fistful of Seaton’s blond locks. “Where is Kai?” he demanded coldly, yanking the man’s head back until their eyes met. “If you lie to me again, Mr. Edlen, I will freeze your throat entirely and crush it to pieces with my hands.”  

His opposite hand pressed against Seaton’s fingers as they shakily cradled his cold throat. The man had difficulty breathing. What came out of his mouth were visible clouds of desperate oxygen.

Micah wanted to end it permanently.

“R-region 5!” Seaton reiterated frantically.

Micah froze. As he blinked, he was subconsciously aware of a web dancing angrily behind his eyelids.

He _dared_!

“Ezra!”

Hands grabbed him forcibly from behind and hauled him away from Seaton. An array of blond hair and navy blue robes encompassed him, breaking his concentration from freezing Seaton’s throat.

Micah turned out of the hold, spying Calder storming down the hallway.

“What is going on here?” his father demanded.

Everyone in the hall stood a great distance away from the commotion, and yet, their morbid curiosity insisted they stay and watch. Eyes focused fixedly on Micah, who currently stood resignedly in the midst of Calder’s royal guards. Josiah’s guards—the ones who’d followed Micah earlier—lingered nearby, their gazes delighted and jubilant over the spectacle they’d just witnessed.  

Micah inhaled, trying to calm the ringing in his ears. Closing his eyes briefly, the web that stretched across the blackness of his mind continued to pulsate, albeit weaker. He discovered, the longer he focused on calming himself, the quicker it disappeared.

The hairs on his arms stood at end. This wasn’t right.

This wasn’t good.

Things were escalating. Even an unnerving unpredictability fouled the air, bringing with it a very heavy sensation of alarm. 

Calder came to a stop next to Micah, gazing first at Seaton, who continued to grasp his throat, and then to Muriel who struggled to stand with a broken arm encased in ice. “Someone fetch Healer Destan. The rest of you _leave_.”

Calder’s tone was forbidding as it clapped through the halls like thunder. Micah stood stiffly, watching as the nobles retreated quickly from the hall. Their murmuring did nothing to qualm the ringing in his ears. If anything, it only continued to fuel his rage. The web.

He endured their stares. He endured the talk. He could sense Calder’s budding rage and knew his father was not going to take this lightly. Situations like these would force Calder to choose between his son and his nobles. Micah had a conjecture of which side Calder would choose.

When the nobles and guards departed, Calder turned to Micah.

He did not speak. He did not have to.

“Seaton has abducted Kai,” Micah explained neutrally. “I was finding out the location. He did not prove to be forthcoming.” He glanced for Josiah, assuming the man stayed behind, but there was no sign of the man anywhere. Micah tried not to feel disjointed over the absence. It appeared as if the man were truly intending to create distance.

A hollowness opened up in his chest. A gaping, unavoidable hole.

“Kai is _his_ son,” Calder reprimanded sharply.

“Kai is an adult,” Micah countered harshly. “He has chosen a side and his father could not tolerate the fact it wasn’t behind him.”

Calder appeared unimpressed. “Sachiel told me about his fears regarding Kai Edlen’s whereabouts. Several sources confirmed him to be in Region 5. Safe. Tucked away.” He motioned to Seaton, who tried to regain his dignity by standing and appearing untouched. “This is certainly not the way of handling things, Ezra. Perhaps next time, a more subtle approach would suffice.” 

Seaton smirked as Micah’s eyes fell on him. As Micah stared back unblinkingly, he noticed a very faint flicker in the man’s silver aura. Faint, white lines crisscrossed across his skin, hardly noticeable, but every bit web-like. It was gone in an instant, something he’d never notice if he weren’t looking so hard.

Micah’s spine straightened.

He looked to Muriel, squinting.

He’d gotten so accustomed to seeing auras that he no longer focused on them. Clearly, that had been a mistake. It appeared as if the web he’d come to associate with Dushyanta was currently engrained in the auras of all the mortals at the capital. Seaton had it. Muriel had it.

“Ezra?” Calder demanded, expecting an answer.

Reluctantly, he turned and stared at his father, finding evidence of tampering just as well. Just how long had it taken Dushyanta to spin a web so intricate that it encompassed the auras of mortals? Micah was sure he was similarly affected.

Did Josiah not know this?

“A source informed me he was in the outskirt regions,” Micah spoke slowly.

Calder’s steely eyes turned from Micah and settled on Seaton. Said man shook his head vehemently upon Calder’s observation.

“The outskirt regions?” Muriel repeated with hilarity. Seeing as Seaton could not speak, Muriel took it upon himself to be the predominant voice. “Who was this source?”

Were they truly good actors? Or had Brook Glyndwr deceived him?

“Insignificant,” he bit out.

“I do hope you are speaking the truth, Muriel. Such underhanded tricks are rather ham-fisted and lack the intelligent finesse I’ve come to associate with you and your brother,” Calder murmured softly, somehow capable of making it both a threat and an insult. Cerulean eyes glanced over Micah’s head. “Ah, Healer Destan, just in time.”

Healer Destan appeared at Micah’s elbow and looked between Seaton, Muriel, and Micah with an impartial expression. “Your Majesty. Your Highness.” He jerked his head in a semblance of a respectful nod as he shuffled over to Muriel. “They are in good hands.”

As Destan traded muffled words with Muriel, Calder placed a domineering hand on Micah’s shoulder and steered him down the corridor. “Not a good decision,” his father chided. “Right now is an especially delicate time.”

“Meaning?”

Down the corridor, Micah spied the unmistakable face of Ladon. He hadn’t seen his half-brother since the attack on the capital. The boy was dressed in his academy uniform, appearing to have just arrived at the palace this morning. Standing with a few royal guards, Ladon was clearly waiting for his father to rejoin him.  

“To the public, your coronation is to be postponed.”

Micah stopped short.

He gazed at the hand on his shoulder before looking narrowly at Calder. “You work quickly,” he praised sarcastically. “I hadn’t realized this morning’s attack on Seaton was accurately prophesied with enough time to bring in Ladon.”

Calder removed his hand and positioned himself in front of Micah. His expression was hard, closed off. “This has nothing to do with your quarrel between Seaton and Muriel. There have been more deaths, Ezra. _That_ is why your coronation is postponed _._ That is why Ladon is here. He will be the public face for the time being. Least long enough to get a handle on the cause of deaths.”

“More biracial children?”

He hadn’t felt any sort of attack like the one he experienced the other day. Even when he was on the political tour, in Terra, he’d had spasms of pain, the web a burning reminder of the entity back home wreaking havoc. It was almost as if Dushyanta wanted Micah to know when he’d dropped more victims. Yet, there hadn’t been more than two.

“Biracial children, biracial adults, their families.” A pause. “There were three more instances earlier this morning. You and I both know it’s a requisition to denounce your place on the throne.”

“And you heeded their demands.”

“What would you have me do?” his father demanded sharply. “Your purpose in my kingdom is to unify these people. Out of all my expectations, this is by far the furthest I could have possibly conceived for your initiation into the public.” Calder was livid and the web across his aura thrummed brighter. “You attack members of the royal council so publically, so barbarically. Your very presence spurs homicide amongst the citizens and assassination attempts from other kingdoms.”

Micah listened to the tirade with a blank expression.

His _purpose._

His _reason for existence._

A pity he did not meet those expectations.

As soon as Calder stepped out in public with Ladon, everyone would recognize the act for what it was. Ladon was replacing Micah once again, but this time, it was to sate the oppressors. The Unda elite would certainly enjoy the victory. They would attempt to stifle Micah permanently during this _replacement_ period.

He had no doubt.

“I am not an accessory you can exchange depending on when the mood strikes you,” Micah said lowly, feeling his own anger mount once again. “By hailing Ladon in public, you’ve shown them that criminals make the decisions. They control you.”

“I said this is only temporary. A façade until we can find out who is behind this and lure them in the open with a false sense of victory.” Calder seemed to harness an impression of calm in the face of Micah’s rising anger. “You are still the prince, my son. You will remain in the palace and keep a low profile. Do you understand me? I don’t want you out in the open. For your own safety.”

Micah turned his shoulder on the man. “Don’t ever expect me to step back in the position of your decoration, Calder.”

Whether Calder would have continued the argument or not, Micah cut off all possibility as he escaped down an adjacent corridor. The man would not call out after him or make a further scene.

Micah had a fire god to hunt down.

 

*** * * ***

It was a grey, hazy, and an overall miserable evening.

It took a great deal of control to sit so inactively, but somehow, Micah managed to calm his racing heart and his piqued adrenaline. He felt disassociated from his mind, finding himself floating rather lethargically on the currents of resignation. The hazy grey sky reflected in the iris of his unblinking eyes. With dilated pupils, he appreciated the nearly invisible web stretching across the sky. Heavy, dark clouds sailed along, sometimes veiling the web from view, forcing Micah to strain his eyes to rediscover it.

Just how did he do it?

Inhaling deeply, Micah pressed his shoulder blades against the armchair. With his arms planted on each respective armrest, he contemplated the situation. After all, simple meditation was all he could achieve at this point. He’d tried to locate Josiah earlier that afternoon, only to come up emptyhanded and then nearly manhandled by Calder’s personal guards in effort to return him to his rooms.

They now stood outside his quarters.

Releasing his exhale slowly, his fingers twitched against the armrests.

How long, exactly, had Dushyanta weaved his magic? Moreover, what, precisely, did his web do? It did not alter a person’s character. That much was clear. Dushyanta was the god of enmity. The destroyer of evil. Two, conflicting powers, Micah mused. Dushyanta _used_ evil to destroy evil. Antagonism and hatred would be the god’s primary influence. He would enjoy stirring up trouble and creating destruction. The web infected Micah just as it did everyone else, yet he didn’t feel particularly different.

Perhaps quick to temper. Quick to sink into bloodlust during his anger.

Once he harnessed his anger, his heart beat so profoundly against his ribcage, he’d felt as if it were too large for his chest.

Everyone was infected. Sachiel was infected. As was Cordelia. However, both were more than supportive the past few weeks. Which led Micah to believe the web was a stimulus of sorts, something that could activate on whim, focusing on a specific person or a group of people. It also seemed to link back to Micah, spurring a spike of negative feelings to those who truly did not like him.

Would Seaton and Muriel Edlen act this way if the web were not present?

Most likely not. The web accelerated and intensified their dislike for Micah. It made them act far more unreasonably than ordinary, but again, it did not alter their true character.

Which begged the question of the web’s other possible capabilities.

Micah assumed Dushyanta grounded himself in the mortal realm and took residence in Concordia after the other gods failed to eliminate Micah. Soon after, Calder requested Micah to leave for the tour, yet even before he left, he’d noted the web and the overall negative air of the capital. During his absence, the web undoubtedly intensified, weaving into the auras—souls— of unassuming mortals.

Dushyanta wanted to smear Micah’s name and reputation. He wanted to destroy him from a distance. Crumble his pedestal. Create so much anger and hostility against him that Micah would be vulnerable to destroy and defeat. As Josiah mentioned, the gods were leery after their combative assault failed. The god of enmity took it upon himself to be the next contender to destroy Micah.

Truthfully, he was doing an impressive job. He was an enemy Micah did not know how to find or fight.

And one Josiah claimed he would take care of himself.

What did the man say?

_“Don’t worry about him, I will deal with him.”_

Micah laughed bitterly before he forced himself to calm his emotions. Essentially, after Micah denied the very idea of immortality, Josiah turned the tables and proclaimed he’d only take care of Dushyanta if Micah intended to repay him. Then the distance stretched and Josiah continued to play his game of indifference. Would Josiah make Micah beg? Agree to immortality? Agree to becoming a god?

Losing his sense of tranquil, Micah leaned forward in his chair and ran a frustrated hand down his face. He drowned in a sense of… he didn’t know what it was, but it tore at his resolve. Agni’s distance hurt, he acknowledged desperately. Pathetically. It felt as if a part of him, that once seemed so whole and complete with Agni’s proximity, had split painfully with the distance.

No, Micah considered, forcing his thoughts away from the feelings of abandonment. For repayment, Josiah wouldn’t want Micah to agree to immortality. He would want Micah to agree to immortality on his own freewill. In terms of repayment, he’d make Micah do something that required submission, something like—

Micah pressed his eyes closed. Intimacy. Literal physical submission.   

Considering biracial citizens were dying, just as the High Priests claimed, Micah realized he might have to play into Josiah’s hands. Even so, the thought of being intimate with Josiah was not displeasing, nor was it unappealing. No matter how much Micah _wanted_ to pretend it would disgust him, he would be a fool to deny his physical _and_ emotional attachments to Agni.

He reflected on the conversation between Vayu and Agni. At the time, with the Syphon possessing him, he hadn’t been able to feel much of anything besides the god eater’s displeasure for all gods. It mirrored his own distaste. His own revulsion for the deities who thought themselves far above any sort of law or moral code.

He hated them.

Yet, there was a small part of Micah that was intrigued with the notion of remaining so close to Agni, even in death. In eternity. That small flame of intrigue soured at Vayu’s words and suspicions. At Dushyanta’s drive to destroy an ‘evil’. At Prithvi’s skepticism and warnings. At the Syphon’s interest and focus.

He didn’t understand it. A part of him feared even the thought of what it could entail. He didn’t want to hear it. Think about it, or consider the possibilities. It involved more than just a simple _ice god._

However, for Agni to further cement Micah’s reservations and uncertainties by telling him he was replaceable sent a toxic pang through his chest and put him further on edge. It was the same with Calder, who would use Ladon as a temporary replacement, just to draw out the perpetrators. Micah understood his father’s ploy, even approved of said method after his temper had died, and yet, the thought of being _replaced_ did not sit well with him.

Perhaps Agni had known it was one of Micah’s weaknesses.

And he played on it well.

A knock sounded at the door and Micah straightened in his chair. He closed his eyes briefly, gathering himself. When he reopened them, his gaze hardened and he prepared himself to face reality without any uncertainties or reservations getting in his way.

Who knew meditation could actually calm his mind and ease his tension despite not _fixing_ any conflicts?

“Come in.”

Currently facing the large windows and away from the door, Micah did not have to turn around to identify his visitor. His mood plummeted when a familiar, enthralling pull nagged at the back of his neck. “It must be difficult showing your face around here, considering Calder did not take your claim seriously,” Micah murmured with revulsion.

Haken Anwar. His Chosen.

Someone with such an intimate claim on him, yet also the furthest from his thoughts.

“I know he took my claim seriously,” came the haughty reply. “Anyone with basic observation skills could see how you reacted with me in the room. How synchronized we were.”

“The only reason you’re alive is because you’re useful to Calder. He enjoys possessing coercion material against Lord Josiah.” Micah gazed one last time at the darkening sky before standing from his chair. “How does that make you feel, exactly?”

The bespectacled Healer occupied the other side of the quarters, appearing nonplused over Micah’s comment. “I see you’ve been replaced by your half-brother. How does that make you feel?” he asked back.

“Elated, actually.” He refused to move any closer or offer the man a place to sit. “Why _did_ you tell my father?” Micah asked. “What could you have possibly gained by revealing such a thing? You didn’t really think my father would force me to initiate a bond with you, did you?”

Haken laughed harshly. “Of course I didn’t think I’d be the royal heir’s future consort.” Despite not being offered a seat, Haken pushed off from the door and ventured towards the chairs. “Lord Josiah wanted my grandfather here, at the palace, to be your Healer. An understandable request, considering your _limitations._ However, my grandfather hasn’t been feeling well, which is why I needed to accompany him.” Haken took a seat. “I realized there was a high possibility Lord Josiah would figure out what I am to you. The only way I could fathom surviving this relocation to the palace is if I confided in someone with a lot more power. The king.”

Micah absorbed the words, studying the Healer in a new light.

In all actuality, he was impressed. “So you are a survivalist.”

Haken looked at him blankly before one of his brows lifted. He had the features of an Igni noble. Sharp, pointed, and relatively attractive. His thin glasses gave him an intelligent, almost arrogant quality, and his hair, which he kept tied back, seemed smooth and obedient.

The man was at least a few years older than Micah. He was thin and lithe, like most Igni males, yet his shoulders were relatively broad. During last term, when Micah ran into the young man, he had nearly shuddered at the dull and ordinary vibes this man secreted. While he was nothing compared to Josiah, he wasn’t as nearly as dull as he had first feared.

“You seem to approve.”

Micah smirked. “You aren’t as entirely compliant as I had speculated.”

Haken frowned, his pale, amber eyes unhappy. “I didn’t have much time to make an impression before you ran away from me.”

“Ran away from you?” Micah sneered. “I was trying to save you. Create distance.”

“I imagine anyone would look _compliant_ compared to your other Chosen, Lord Josiah.” Haken’s lips upturned into a grimace. “Whatever reasons he has for proclaiming you as his Chosen are beside the point. You’ve treated me as an enemy as soon as you recognized what we were. It didn’t sit well with me. I didn’t understand it.”

Micah hardly reacted to the forlorn words. “I’m not interested in initiating any sort of bond with you.”

“Most people would be thrilled to find their Chosen. It’s so rare. Unheard of.”

“I’m not most people.”

“No, you’re not, are you?” He sized Micah up, his bespectacled eyes looking first to his combat boots then up to his face. “You’re not exactly a conventional Elemental, you’re an ostracized prince, and you have a very unhealthy relationship with your uncle.”

Placing a hand on the back of the chair, Micah leaned forward, gazing astutely at the young man. “You accurately depicted me after just a few short meetings. I’m impressed.”

The Igni Healer hardly reacted to Micah’s sarcasm. The man pressed his palms into his thighs and sat at the edge of the couch like a stiff, unmoving statue. “I’d like the opportunity to know you better, Ezra,” he requested quietly. “I don’t want to be enemies or whatever it is you think we should be. I think you and I could have a very formable alliance.”

“Oh?”

Micah pushed off from the back of the chair and slowly moved toward the Healer. Haken did not move an inch, but rather seemed interested in the prospect of close proximity. Navigating around the low table, Micah stopped directly in front of Haken until their legs pressed together. Reaching forward, he placed a hand on the armrest and leaned closer, hovering just scantly above the man’s face.

“And what, exactly, could you bring to this alliance?” he murmured charmingly.

Haken’s gaze dropped to Micah’s lips before he looked back into his eyes. The pull between them was forceful, artificial, and it left a bad taste on Micah’s tongue. Unexpectedly, the young man started to laugh.

Micah cocked his head to the side, bemused.

“I apologize,” Haken declared, sobering immediately. “But this is why I came to you _now._ I anticipated you’d pull a power play. Typically, I admit, you’d always hold the upper hand. Nevertheless, this isn’t most times. You’re in a conundrum, aren’t you?”

“Conundrum,” Micah repeated the word. He leaned away and sat on the table directly across from Haken. “Please, enlighten me.”

Still sitting as proper as a blue blood in court, Haken grinned. “Well, everyone has deserted you, haven’t they?”

Micah found himself mirroring Haken’s grin with one of his own. “Nice attempt.”

Haken shrugged. “Conceivably, they haven’t deserted you, but you are rather alienated right now. You’re in custody in your personal quarters. No one is allowed access to you. Not Councilman Sachiel, not Captain Edlen, no one.”

His eyes narrowed. “They wanted to speak with me?”

“If we form an alliance, I can tell you about all the things you’ve missed since your detainment.” Haken appeared smug. “So, to answer your earlier question, I actually have several things to bring to this alliance. Information, the healing only _you_ need, and I’m also a fire Elemental.”

“A fire Elemental,” Micah deliberated the title dryly. He’d already known Haken could harness an Element, but declaring himself in such a way… it was amusing. “Exactly how much combative experience or training have you had, Healer?”

Darkness began to spread its reach across the quarters, but Micah caught the first flicker of uncertainty crossing Haken’s features.

“Are you going to agree on an alliance or not, _Ezra_?”

The other man was stubbornly resilient. He also had a spiteful streak.

It was endearing.

“I am never going to initiate anything other than a friendly alliance,” Micah decided. “If that is what you want, then tell me what I need to know. Tell me how you were able to get in here when the others were turned away.”

He appeared triumphant. “I’m a Healer. _Your_ personal Healer.” Haken plucked at his white and black uniform with his forefingers. “I can go places others cannot. Most don’t seem me as any sort of threat to begin with.”

“Imagine that,” Micah replied dryly.

Haken frowned. “It is a beautiful vantage point you have in here.” The fading light from outside reflected off the man’s glasses. “But it points north. Away from the majority of the capital. You wouldn’t see the riots, would you?”

Alarm washed Micah cold. “What are they rioting about?”

“I have no idea. I haven’t been out there.” With a grimace, the man motioned toward the window. “I heard it’s crazy. Vandalism. Fires. Assaults. Not many groups, but enough sparse instances to cause a nuisance.”

Micah stood from the table and paced near the window. Though it was darkening, he spied the web glimmering malevolently from the clouds. Fortunately, Haken proclaimed it was not masses of people causing mayhem. Micah imagined the few people affected by the web were already individuals prone to hostility or destruction. But why now? Why has Dushyanta initiated random attacks across the capital?

A prickle trailed down his neck.

Was this his end game?

Suddenly, he could no longer ignore the atmosphere of unease this evening. It was oppressive. The darkening room only severed to emphasis the disquiet. “What did Sachiel want to tell me?” he asked quietly, speaking to his fading reflection from the window.

“Only what I know from Captain Edlen.” Haken was unaware of Micah’s mood, but perhaps he felt the unease just as well, for his tone darkened and turned hesitant with apprehension. “The captain came to me and requested I speak to you about the riots and to relay a message from Councilman Sachiel.”

Micah did not turn around nor did he press Haken to continue.

His silence was enough to stir the dead.

“Sachiel claims you and your team must proceed with extreme caution due to the absence of an acting chairman.”

Micah whipped his head around in alarm.

Sachiel said few words, but the words and warning were clear. He needed to get his team out of the academy.

Granted, if they sensed any sort of danger, they were all smart enough to leave on their own. Nevertheless, would pride get in the way? They were, after all, aware their families agreed to Seaton’s whims. They would think they were safe for now. Unfortunately, they were too close to Micah. After this morning, and because of Dushyanta accelerating events, Micah anticipated the nobles would act out of spite.

“He also mentioned something about ‘he was not in Region 5, never was’.”

Micah’s vision shuttered. Veiny, blood red vines webbed across his eyes. Micah doubled over in rage and released a scream of anger. He threw back his arm and knocked over the adjourning table, hearing it splinter as it hit the ground. Cupping his knees, he remained hunched over, trying to control the rage.

Frankly, he didn’t think the web was to blame for his current state.

_Kai._

He should have acted sooner. As soon as he caught wind of Kai missing, he should have personally investigated. Whatever happened now, he would burden the responsibility alone. It was _Keegan_ all over again. Amusing how all these men and women wanted Micah’s protection. All those under his protection were either dead or in peril.

Straightening, he harnessed an imitation of calm and escaped into his bedchambers.

From the corner of his eye, he was aware of Haken quickly following him. “You claim you can bring several things to this alliance. Then I would like you to prove yourself by finding a diplomatic way for us to get out of these quarters.” He grabbed his back holster and secured it over his tunic, strapping the buckles securely in place. “I need to see Josiah.” He hoped the man was back in his quarters. If not...

Haken watched as he sheathed his sword. “I can do that.”

Micah withdrew a hooded cloak from the closet and threw it over his shoulders.

“Are you going to the academy to extract your team?”

“Among other places.”

Region 20. It had to be. Micah considered it was a sort of irony sending Kai to his hometown. Micah would start there. If his searches proved futile, he’d move his way back toward the capital by visiting the other regions.

“I would like to come with.”

Micah’s gaze cut through the darkness of the room. “You are not trained for combat.”

“It seems as if your numbers are pretty limited right now. I can wield fire… I have control of it.” He quickly followed Micah from the bedroom and back towards the entrance of his quarters. “I can literally _feel_ your bloodlust and your anger. It will help me in battle by harnessing it as my own.”

Micah was not going to argue. If Haken wanted to accompany him, he wouldn’t prevent him from doing so. The other man was right. His allies were low as it was. A fire Elemental, no matter how unskilled, would be advantageous. “Fine.” He motioned toward the door. “You get us passage to Josiah’s quarters and you can come along. Otherwise, I will make my way there by force and you will have to stay behind.”

If Haken’s convincing happened to take too long, Micah would also resort to violence.

He had little time for this.

He was more than certain he could defeat Calder’s guards; only, he wouldn’t be able to hold back his Element from lethal strikes. Killing so many members of the royal guard wasn’t what he wanted to do.

Haken observed Micah from over his glasses. “Try not to appear so unapproachable.” He reached for the handle. “It will help move things along if you appear ill.”

Micah grimaced.

“Well,” Haken considered him. “I suppose that will do.”

He pushed open the door and Micah was taken aback by how many guards truly stood outside his rooms. Evidently, Calder instructed for heavy security. There were at least ten blue-clad guards standing at attention on either side of the corridor. Conway Edlen was not amongst them.

Eyes honed in their direction as soon as they stepped outside the rooms. Micah lifted his chin, feeling adrenaline race through his limbs. He hadn’t battled for quite some time. It would prove challenging, undoubtedly, but he was prepared.

He’d already wasted enough time reuniting with his team. With Kai.

He wasn’t going to wait any longer.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, we have another piece of beautiful artwork to gaze upon!! Brokkolily has created an amazing piece of Ezra/Micah!!! You can see it [HERE](https://epic-solemnity.livejournal.com/) Thank you so very much!!!! ♥


	21. Chapter Twenty One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Swan, feel free to present us with the numerous Spider-Man remarks you will undoubtedly have after this chapter xD

**21\. Chapter Twenty One**

 

In the end, Haken proved remarkably resourceful.

Micah had grossly underestimated _him_ —a mere Healer—who claimed himself capable of combat with an Element he’d never used to cause harm. The same young man desperate enough to appear confident for the sole purpose of impressing his reluctant Chosen.

He certainly delivered.

As soon as the guards advanced outside Micah’s quarters, Haken adopted an air of cool professionalism despite Micah readying his stance for confrontation. The words that spewed from the Healer’s mouth were both confident and authoritative as he explained a fabricated aliment that seemingly inflicted Micah. He explained, as Chosen, Micah and Josiah possessed an intuition when the other wasn’t feeling well. Considering Micah’s ailing state, he knew Josiah needed prompt attention.

Prompt attention— _immediately._

It was in the guards’ best interest to allow them passageway to Josiah’s quarters. While the guards obliged, albeit in a state of confusion, they were also accompanying them. Micah wasn’t thrilled with the turnout, but it wasn’t unexpected.

Soon, the small corridor near Josiah’s quarters crowded with a blend of Calder’s and Josiah’s guards. Seeing the crimson-clad guards standing outside Josiah’s door clearly indicated the man was finally present.

“Stay out here,” Micah ordered Haken brusquely.   

Without knocking or announcing his presence, he let himself inside. It was his first time entering the Igni king’s chambers, yet it was too dark to examine his surroundings. Moreover, it was _stifling_. The temperature immediately caused sweat to bead at the back of his neck. A large, roaring fire, virtually dancing on its own, twirled in the middle of a round seating area.

Settled on one of the curved couches was Josiah. Nursing a glass of wine.

“Yes, please, do come in.”

Micah’s eyes narrowed into slits. If the sullen voice, the defeated posture, and the bitterness weren’t enough to indicate this was not _Agni,_ it was the silver soul of a mortal.

For a moment, Micah stood there dumbfounded. “Where is Agni?”

“You finally admit he exists aloud,” Josiah murmured, his tongue slurring from too much wine. “He was rather upset you continued to ignore his existence. Especially after so long vying for your attention. But you have a way of twisting him just right, don’t you?”

Micah was a loss for words. It was disjointing. So very disconcerting. He hadn’t believed he would interact with Josiah again without Agni possessing him. He certainly hadn’t anticipated it would be _now._ “I need to speak with him. When did he leave? Where is he?” he demanded.

“Just because I am his vessel does not mean I am always privy to his plans or whereabouts. We’ve gone through this before, have we not, nephew?” Josiah lifted his glass and took another sip. “Be that as it may, he’s doing your bidding once again.” He motioned to his surroundings with a lazy, disinterested hand. “He is hunting. Why do you believe things are escalating at the capital? Dushyanta is desperate. Before Agni chases him away, he is trying to spread as much chaos as possible across the capital. The seeds of destruction are in full bloom.”

Micah frowned. “He’s hunting without you?”

“In this case, god versus god, I imagine their intangible forms are easier to maneuver in battle.” Josiah released a sigh. “He said to keep you in the palace. Do not leave.”

Micah’s mind spun. He could hardly fathom Josiah—Agni—hunting Dushyanta without further prompt. Micah was reluctantly impressed. Flattered? _No_. Not flattered. Relieved, perhaps, that he did not have to beg. Agni was cruel and malicious at times, but apparently, he kept his word. “You’re just telling me this now?”

The man shrugged in answer.

“And he asked _you_ to watch over _me_?”

“Asked?” Josiah sneered. “Agni does not ask, silly boy.”

Micah’s lips pressed together discontentedly. “You aren’t doing a particularly good job of babysitting.” He adjusted his cloak and tightened the fastenings. “I need to leave the palace and I need you to get me out.”

“Of course you do.” Josiah did not sound surprised in the least.

As much as Micah wanted to stay and speak with his uncle at length, especially with the wine loosening his tongue, now was not the time. He still wanted to rediscover that sixteen-year-old prince who’d boldly fought on the front lines for his kingdom. Underneath Agni’s careful cocoon of manipulation, that young man still lingered. For now, he was a husk of his former glory, someone who succumbed to a god who’d convinced him he wasn’t good enough for his people.

“Will you do it?”

Josiah placed his glass on the table and stood. His maroon and black robes were askew and rumpled. His braid was not much better as it was near unraveling. “I want you out.”

Micah watched skeptically as Josiah came to a hunkering stop opposite of him.

The man’s pinched expression turned hooded and delighted as he considered Micah. “Or…” the man trailed off huskily, his lust nearly fragrant. “You could stay here—”

“Will you stop?” Micah demanded sharply, easily taking control of the situation. “I need you to get me out of the palace without royal guards tailing me. Can you do this? Or have you drowned your sorrows too heavily with wine?”

“Sorrows?”

“Your self-pity is noxious.” Micah’s lips upturned. Likewise, the stink of consumed wine around the personal quarters was just as noxious if not odorous. The stifling heat did not make things better. “You agreed to a god controlling you like a marionette. For what? The Igni glory is still not reestablished, is it?”  

“He’s been busy.” Here, Josiah’s cloudy eyes pinned Micah in place. “He orbits around you. It’s repulsive. Now he needs to protect you from all the other gods who find themselves just as appalled over his fascination with you.”

“His attentions should wane now.”

Upon Micah’s subdued comment, Josiah’s attention honed.  “If you believe his apathetic ploy, you’re just as twisted in his manipulations as the rest of us.” Josiah stepped back. “He will have you agreeing to immortality before long. That I am certain.”

The man’s tone was bitter.

Envious.

_“A mortal who does not fear death and who spits on the gift of immortality. You truly are something else,”_ Agni once said in observation of Micah. Yes, Micah imagined he was different from the masses. The realization did not make him remotely isolated or upset. He was weak. He was mortal. Yet, he believed those differences Agni had observed the day on the train made him stronger than most mortals. Death did not rule him. Obtaining immortality did not drive him.

“I need to get out of the palace,” Micah requested again, bringing their discussion back around to his original concern. “I need to get my team out of the academy.”

Something cruel shifted behind Josiah’s eyes. He shook his head, appearing warily amused. “Anything to get rid of you.”  

Perhaps Josiah hoped Micah would meet his end.

Then he’d have Agni’s attentions all to himself.

Without further prompting, Josiah reached behind Micah and grabbed the door handle. Twisting it abruptly, he flung open the door and stepped out into the corridor. His drunken state prevented him from properly comprehending the crowded hallway. Confusion masked his features briefly, but he managed to recover. “You are all dismissed.” He motioned down the corridor, back to the main entrance of the palace. “The king requested your assistance with the riots. Please heed his orders.”

_Please?_

Dubious expressions met his request. Micah observed from inside Josiah’s quarters, uninspired.

Josiah must have sensed the resistance as well, for his expression darkened and the air turned warm with caution. “ _Now,_ ” he whispered lethally, adopting Agni’s snarky countenance.

The royal guards moved abruptly.

Micah watched them go, impressed despite himself. It appeared as if the real Josiah wasn’t as far gone as he’d suspected. If he could unravel the bitterness, the dependency, and the overall defeatism, he could turn Agni’s vessel against him. While that possibility tasted delicious on his tongue, he doubted he would ever get the opportunity to speak with Josiah again _._

As he made a move to leave the quarters, Josiah reached out and grabbed the collar of his robes. Micah met Haken’s eyes from outside the corridor as Josiah manhandled him before leaning down and pressing his lips against his ear.

The smell of stank wine caught his nostrils and Micah sneered with distaste.

“Mortals imagine gods to be holy. Representations of _righteous,_ ” Josiah whispered unpleasantly. “Only, they are immoral and wicked. Agni, especially. I caution you, nephew. You won’t realize you’re venturing across his web until he shepherds you in the middle. He’ll swaddle and bind you for eternity.”  

Micah pried the fingers from his collar. “Fitting analogy considering our current situation with Dushyanta and his webs. I appreciate that warning, _Uncle._ ” He moved past Josiah and made his way down the opposite corridor as the royal guards.

Haken quickly followed him, persistent not to fall behind.

“You’re only a step away from the middle, Ezra,” Josiah warned after him.

Ignoring the man, Micah hurriedly twisted his way through the back corridors, well aware of Haken’s footfalls resonating behind him. The one problem with Josiah’s warning was his inconsistency. His uncle was envious and all around bitter of Agni’s obsession with Micah. That was a gross variance to his warning about the fire god entrapping people. Why would he be bitter over Agni’s supposed manipulations?

Micah pushed it from his mind. He already knew Agni and his god friends were decadent. He did not intend to interact with them on a regular basis by furthering his lifespan. He would rather accept black nothingness over an eternity with superhuman entities harboring immature and haughty complexes.

“Are we extracting your team because they are in trouble without a proper chairman?”

Micah led the Healer through the tunnels of the palace, not particularly familiar with the layout, but aware there was a back entrance. He could _feel_ Haken behind him, following each of his strides with one of his own. They were subconsciously mirroring each other again.

“Your common sense astounds me,” Micah murmured.  

His tone was derisive, yet he was reluctantly impressed with the other man. Haken certainly wasn’t _unintelligent._ He picked things up quickly, he observed well enough, and he had a small sliver of self-perseverance, or more appropriately, a bit of a backbone. Though it was particularly obvious Micah was the more dominant one of the pair, Haken wasn’t entirely out of his depth trying to keep up.

For a brief moment, he considered his relationship with Agni.

Entirely skewered— _no_ – painfully skewered. The playing field would always tip in favor of Agni. The man was a _god,_ after all. When Micah attempted to keep up, did he just appear foolish? Or did Agni consider his efforts endearingly impressive as Micah considered Haken’s efforts? Somehow, even that was insulting enough to fathom.

“What does someone have against you to cause harm to your team?”

“What do any of the people have against the capital—to me— to spread chaos and murder?” Micah countered ambiguously. He was not going to broach the topic of Dushyanta. “Sometimes there is no rationality behind actions.”

“There has to be a reason.” Haken sounded disgusted.

“Reason? Yes. Rationality? No.” Within the shadows, Micah shook his head. “Can it be rational if politics and opinions are the motivations behind actions? Those are not actual explanations of why people do what they do, only mere figments of illusions based on beliefs and truths.”

“ _Mere figments_ are driving citizens to murder biracial children?”

“They do not want me on the throne.”

“There are more than two parties hunting biracial citizens and their families,” Haken said. “I find it hard to believe one person is cruel enough to attack children, let alone a _party_ of people. There are riots in the streets. All out disorder. How can a kingdom be so against a prince that was destined to sit on the throne twenty years ago? They _knew_ this day would come.” 

What was Micah supposed to say?

_Yes, Haken, the god of enmity is currently wreaking havoc across the kingdom._

“How do you know there was more than one perpetrator going after children?”

Haken did not answer right away, most likely frustrated with Micah’s obscurity. “With the first two children, the cause of death was a toxin. The families of these children were also affected by the same contaminant. We couldn’t identify the source. It was completely unknown to our records and studies. It appeared like a spider bite at the small of their back, yet it was no spider we’ve ever studied before.”

“And the most recent deaths?”

“Strangulation and stabbing. Completely and vilely barbaric.”

Just as Micah suspected, Dushyanta was not responsible for the most recent murders. Directly, at any rate. It unnerved Micah that the web was strong enough to influence others to act out with murder. Especially against children. He did not doubt, with Dushyanta’s increasing momentum, that Muriel and Seaton would renew their efforts in dismantling Micah. He needed to get his team out.

He needed to get himself out of the capital.

And quickly.

 

*** * * ***

 

Screams of rage and loss pierced through the darkening veil of Concordia’s capital.

Dushyanta zigzagged through the buildings at breakneck speed, hearing the glass shatter and the shouts of hostile wrath. This was his doing. His creation. He felt the enmity course through the mortals and urged it to grow, grow, _grow!_ The enmity no longer revolved around Prince Ezra, but rather on the desire to act on such budding, irresistible hostility.

They danced, they weaved, they destroyed on his whim. It was a powerful feeling. The more the enmity grew across the capital, the more _he_ grew. He could feel himself becoming more powerful. Prayers. Who needed prayers when the gods could leech upon displayed sentiments from mortals? A god did not need kingdoms worth of worshippers. As long as mortals experienced a semblance of emotion or experiences that represented a particular god or goddess, the more powerful said god became.

The goddess of lust? Far from a minor god. The god of war? Just as powerful.

Ugly, dark emotions seemed to secrete the strongest from mortals, who were nothing more than animals. Animals that provided enough nourishments for gods who were not of the Big Four, but animals nonetheless. 

Dushyanta revered in the power surge as he raced through the streets of Concordia. Things were in proper place. The gods had order. They had means of nourishment. They had their hierarchy. They did not need to tip that balance by allowing Agni’s pet project to come into power. If the boy were to grow into full strength, he’d become an evil Dushyanta did not know how to destroy alone.

A false sense of security brightened Dushyanta’s trail.

If he kept his web in place long enough, the mortals who were strongly affected by it would crumble and grow insane. If the web stayed even longer than that, _everyone_ at the capital would be destroyed, even those who did not harbor significant feelings of enmity or hostility. He hoped he could linger long enough to witness the destruction of these mortals. Mortals would destroy other mortals. When the dust settled, those remaining mortals would then destroy their allies and then themselves.

Such godly influence on mortals was too much to withstand.

No, he knew it would never amount to such an event, but he could fantasize. Not only would he face Agni’s displeasure, Varuna would also stop him before it amounted to such levels of genocide.

Down below, a mortal threw a burning bottle of flames into a display window, shattering it on impact and starting the shop on fire. Help from uniformed mortals quickly rushed in to save the shop and to extinguish the fire. As Dushyanta passed the disorder, his eyes burned with the imprint of bright, vivid flames.

Disquiet lingered in the back of his mind as he slowly came down from his power high.

Small fires, innocent, yet still unnervingly present, seemed scattered in great numbers across the capital. Random smolders, no larger than a small mortal child, burned at street corners or deep alleyways without any accelerants. The fires did not spread, rather, they appeared artificial and strategically placed. Dushyanta coiled, immediately fretting the fire god who was undoubtedly lingering in the shadows.

Fear prickled at the back of Dushyanta’s neck as he slowed and hovered intangibly above the capital.

He’d hoped to execute a dodge and hide technique with Agni. He constructed safe havens across the capital in order to veil himself. Only, it appeared as if Agni was not going to come out charging and chasing. No matter how much Agni’s quick and fierce temper may proceed him, Dushyanta realized that the fire god’s hunting technique was all about trickeries and mind games. Agni was a serpent lounging in the high weeds, hidden from his prey, yet his prey remained the center of his obsessive and gleeful attention.

Dushyanta did not appreciate this tactic.

On top of the animosity at the capital, which was already wrought with tension, he could feel the power of a very imposing god unfold. Above, the lightning veined through the dark clouds with triumphed glee while the air was a static of discomforting anticipation.

Dushyanta settled himself on top of a building. “Agni!” he yelled into the silence.

A veil seemed to drop abruptly between himself and the mortal realm. The mortal screams turned distant, foggy, the power rush he’d experienced all but escaped from his grasp as he was denied the opportunity of tasting the enmity. Colors bled from the mortal realm, the only source of color being the bright and unforgivable flames scattered across the capital.  

“Show yourself!” Dushyanta ordered, his voice echoing unnervingly across the rippled veil.

Across from him, a crow suddenly took flight from its perch with a wicked and loud cry. Dushyanta eyed it warily.

“Is that really what you wish, Dushyanta?”

Stiffening at the whispered inquiry, Dushyanta recognized it came from behind him. Slowly, he turned, spying the god standing at the very edge of the building, simply watching him with eyes of blood orange. The fire god’s mane of hair was golden and flowing, appearing similar to the element he controlled at whim. He was a figure to behold, his beauty and strength appearing pure and riveting.

Only, as Dushyanta continued to stare at the bright figure, the more he realized how much darkness Agni carried with him.

Had the fire god’s aura always carried with it the stench of evil?

“You don’t have to do this, Agni. That child you are protecting—”

“Is mine to protect,” Agni finished quietly. “As such, may he flourish and grow into what he was destined to become. The likes of _you_ will not stand in my way of accomplishing that.”

Dushyanta took a step back, hearing the words spoken, but acknowledging the unspoken words were said the loudest. Had he been trying to destroy the wrong evil? All this time? His attentions were focused on the boy, but—

Agni’s figure vanished suddenly, small smoke tendrils curling in the air in his wake. Dushyanta screamed as an invisible force knocked into him, sending him flying off the building. He turned intangible and twisted around, pushing off from the stone building and zooming the opposite direction.

Agni wouldn’t kill him. Couldn’t kill him. It was impossible for a god to kill another god.

However, if Agni were to succeed in destroying him, it meant a fate worse than death.

Dushyanta refused to surrender, especially now after he realized that Agni may not be entirely innocent in all this. If he could destroy that child… he could buy himself more time to figure out what to do with Agni. He needed to proceed with caution as he planned Agni’s destruction. Gods vying against other gods was not unheard of. The destruction against a _powerful_ god was not impossible.

It’s what happened with—

Flames filled his vision and Dushyanta barely dodged in time. Whirling around into a tight roll, he conjured a mesh of webbing behind him, blocking Agni’s flames and halting the god in place. The webbing emitted a high-pitched screech that would paralyze his enemies, and considering no more movement came from the other side of the web, Agni was no exception.

As Dushyanta turned back forward, he flew quickly through the maze of the capital, hunting for the closest safe haven.

Only, as he flew across the capital, the small fires dotting the ground brightened and heightened, seemingly following his wake. Dushyanta seethed as he saw a dark figure emerge from one of the fires before disappearing from his view. Those fires were dangerous. They acted as portals for the fire god to walk through and transport to on whim.

Agni’s presence could be everywhere.

Dushyanta dodged down a tight alleyway and toward a cocoon of webbing he’d constructed just hours ago. When he cloaked himself within the netting, it would shield his presence entirely from Agni’s notice. He’d essentially disappear. Nothing could touch him there. Not even Agni’s power. Yet, as he approached his sanctuary, he immediately noticed the destructed and burned webbing.

Dread settled within Dushyanta.

He realized that Agni had watched him from the shadows for quite longer than he’d initially believed. Perhaps watched in silence as Dushyanta spun these sanctuary havens. The fire god undoubtedly determined his plan of action and sought to remove his escape routes.

Surely _not all of them_ were destroyed!

He turned, peering out of the deep alleyway, unnerved with Agni’s persistence to remain an unseen and distant predator. Stalking from the shadows! Like the snake he was. As Dushyanta deliberated the mouth of the alleyway, the small fires he observed from the capital streets suddenly extinguished to small smolders no larger than his palm. The small, orange flames turned a deep, amethyst color, casting his surroundings in a purple hue.

Dushyanta narrowed his eyes as the temperature increased to unpleasant levels.

In the silence of the capital, with the veil still lowered between him and the mortal realm, Dushyanta slithered from the alleyway and out into the open. He hovered for a moment, hearing nothing but the spluttering of the purple flames as they smoldered brightly. The anticipation stretched so thin, Dushyanta could feel it wrap around his neck like wire.

He had never anticipated _this_ sort of confrontation.

As the seconds ticked by without any appearance from Agni, Dushyanta shifted, experiencing a rush of courage and power. He was not a minor god. He had his own power.

Agni, transformed as a serpent made entirely from flame, lunged at him from the darkness. Dushyanta was ready. He winced as fire seared his side, but he worked quickly, pushing away the pain. He circled Agni at rapid speeds, spinning his web and encompassing the god in a web-like orb. The webbing glowed red as Agni thrashed inside the sphere, throwing his flames against the barrier that would hold him, his power, and his silly schemes at bay.

Dushyanta screamed with victory, shaking and trembling. He’d done it! And yet, he was not a fool. It wouldn’t hold long, but long enough for Dushyanta to seek another one of his sanctuaries.

Before he could flee, an odd, red film clouded his vision. He blinked rapidly, tears from the heat falling from his eyes. His surroundings seemed to mist and haze, and for a moment, Dushyanta felt as if he were gazing at a heat mirage as buildings blurred and reality bent and twisted. A wave of dizziness washed over him and Dushyanta pressed his eyes closed to gather himself.

When he opened them, he found himself back in the alleyway.

He frowned, staring uncomprehendingly at scene before him. Outside the alleyway, in the streets where he’d battled Agni, was… himself… and the red orb encasing the fire god. His doppelganger was squeezing his eyes closed, clearly inflicted with the dizziness Dushyanta had just experienced.

Suddenly, the small, smoldering purple flames across the capital blinked out wickedly.

The image of Dushyanta and the webbed orb holding Agni all went up in flame and disappeared in an explosion of ash.

It was an illusion.

This whole time.

He had never left the alleyway, he realized with horror. All this time. As soon as those flames had turned purple, Agni’s illusion had begun and Dushyanta had gone along for the ride. But… if hadn’t left the alleyway during the extent of the illusion, then…

Then…

Stiffening, and experiencing the deadly sensation of trepidation, he slowly turned his head, locking eyes with taunting blood orange. Agni, standing directly behind him, simply stared at him with a sense of calm, yet in his unblinking eyes, a fire raged. A second or two passed as they simply stared at one another. And then Agni struck.

Dushyanta howled piercingly as he tried to get away, but his entire being burned wildly. The pain was unimaginable, searing to the point of freezing him cold. He struggled out of Agni’s hold, sacrificing a damning wound as he tore himself into two. Out of desperation, his webbing encased his wounded form and sheltered him as he soared high into the air and away from the threat.

He gathered power from the webs across the capital, to try to siphon off the energy to heal himself.

He seethed.

He saw red.

He refused to back down.

 

*** * * ***

 

After several failed attempts of trying to find the back door to the palace, Micah and Haken eventually escaped, the door slamming permanently closed behind them. There was no handle on the outside of the door. If they wanted to go back inside the palace, they would have to do so through the front entrance.

Micah hoped he wouldn’t need to reenter the palace for quite some time. In fact, the very idea of never stepping back into his gilded cage was oppressively tempting. Calder deserved to rot with Ladon at his side.

“There is just…” Haken trailed off as they jogged down the steep side staircase before disappearing into the streets of the capital. “A sense of unease.” The Healer pushed up his sleeve, staring at his arm. “The hairs on my arms are standing,” he stated almost monotonously.

“That usually means you need to put on extra layers of clothing.”

Haken offered Micah an unconvinced stare as he repositioned his sleeve. Opening his mouth, the Igni man suddenly snapped it shut. He stopped short. “Did you hear that?” he demanded, his voice resonating oddly across the empty streets.

Micah reluctantly slowed.  

The residents who lived closer to the palace were of high nobility. Heavy drapes covered the windows of the surrounding townhomes, no lights seen from the outside. Even the quaint shops were dark, drapes drawn and doors locked. Everything was still, hunkering low with a baited breath. In the distance, Micah heard commotion. The smell of smoke wafted through the air and crowds jeered wickedly as glass shattered. A very peculiar static sound hummed in Micah’s ears, very faint amongst the distant riots.

He gazed up at the sky, noticing the lethal red encompassing the web.

It was angry.

A woman screamed hysterically in the distance and Haken shuffled closer to Micah. His scrunched face revealed his distaste, his close proximity revealed both his distress and his desire to offer protection.

Before Micah could say anything, fear and discord suddenly jarred him senseless. 

And it had nothing to do with the distant riots.

He flinched horribly, stumbling forward and throwing an arm around Haken’s shoulders. The pendant around his neck, that normally remained dormant, suddenly turned scalding hot. That could only mean one thing.

A god in his true form was in the immediate area.

Pressing his forearm across the bespectacled Healer, Micah tucked the man’s head against his chest. “Don’t look,” he instructed hastily, veiling Haken anyway just in case the man could not follow simple instruction.

Even with the pendant Agni provided, Micah felt the unmistakable sensation of horror flush him cold. Agni claimed mortals could not logically comprehend a god’s power. Therefore, their instincts, upon encountering one, was the natural relationship between a predator and a prey. Mortals being the petrified prey, gods being the superior predator.

Red-gold smoke swirled in front of Micah, gradually taking shape.

Bulging crossed eyes, a swollen, blue face, and a forked tongue hovered mere inches from him. Micah stared at the god, schooling his features, but unable to suppress the frantic way his knees trembled. A deep, echoing laugh erupted from the god’s open mouth, sounding slowed, but loud enough to cause the ground to shudder. In Micah’s arms, Haken cried out, burying his face further into his chest, his own legs trembling.

It was repulsive.

_Gods_ were repulsive.

Micah found himself hating them more with each passing second.

A thin ring of fire suddenly circled itself around Micah’s feet, eventually growing into a tall wall of flame purposely erected between him and the god. The god—Dushyanta—Micah supposed, snuck away and disappeared abruptly.

A new man stood opposite the flame barrier.

As the tall figure turned and faced Micah, his sharp features swayed with the flames, easily blurring and becoming one with the fire. All Micah could truly observe was the vibrant shade of golden blond hair and the demoralizing red-orange eyes. The eyes seemed to bleed through the flames with startling clarity, igniting a fear in Micah that could not even compare to Dushyanta’s crooked stare. His knees buckled. His breath escaped with a choked sob. He found himself falling, yet before he hit the ground, Agni disappeared.

They were alone in the streets once again.

He saw Agni’s true form…

It was beautiful. Painstakingly handsome. Yet somehow, Micah sensed every single immoral and commanding fiber in the entity’s body. How else could he explain those eyes? Pupils spilt like a serpents, focused on Micah as if he were enchanting prey?

Haken moved away from his chest, his entire body trembling. “What was that?” he demanded.

Micah noted the moisture on the man’s cheeks before occupying himself with his tunic. As he peeled back the collar to gaze down his chest at the pendant, the smell of burnt flesh hit his nostrils. There was no doubt the gold pendant burned a symbol in his skin. It could barely withstand one god, let alone one of the Big Four.

His limbs felt weak, yet his mind kept going back to Agni.

A triumph, perhaps? He felt something victorious seeing the fire god in his true form. Granted, in the mortal realm, a god’s form lacked all his power, yet it was still oppressive.

“Ezra—”

“It was a god,” Micah explained calmly. “It’s the god causing this chaos at the capital. You should stay here. Go back to the palace.”

Standing gradually from the pavement, Micah gathered his bearings and proceeded towards the academy. Haken was quick to follow. In the passing storefront window, Micah observed the expression of the man behind him.

Determined. Albeit shaky.

“Gods,” Haken’s voice broke as if he were an adolescent on the verge of adulthood. “You worship them, but never really imagine they are real enough to have their own vendettas against mortals. Enough so that they cause—”

The Healer stopped abruptly as a high-pitched whine reverberated throughout the kingdom. Micah stopped, closing his eyes against the discomfort sliding down his spine. Nothing human made that cry. Opening his eyes, he glanced up at the web. The red glow he’d observed earlier did not signify _anger,_ he realized _._ It was _smoldering_. A portion of the web blackened and crumbled, perhaps the source of the cry.

Agni was succeeding.

As much as Micah wished he’d witnessed the confrontation, he knew it would have been impossible. Just as his uncle had said, the two gods were mostly intangible. When they did materialize, Micah could hardly look at them without falling pathetically to the ground.

While a portion of the web crumbled, Micah still felt the unmistakable presence of Dushyanta’s negative influence. The distant sound of riots remained strong. If not stronger. A last, desperate push for destruction, then.

Micah pressed forward, leading Haken through the streets of the capital.

With his senses open and hypersensitive, he was able to detect the exact moment Haken’s stride transformed. The boy’s distinct, shuffle-like gait disappeared, and in its place was something dramatically more confident. The distance between them lessened. Haken, usually satisfied with giving Micah enough room, had saddled at his back.

A persistent pursuer.

Micah whirled around and slapped his palm against Haken’s chest. He slammed the other man into a nearby brick wall and pressed his forearm against the Healer’s throat. As he noticed the red-gold aura, he growled.

“Get out of him!” he demanded angrily.

Haken’s lips slotted into a sly smirk. “Sensitive.”  

“Get out of him,” Micah demanded again, delirious with anger. “Not him.”

“Oh?” Amber eyes flashed with predatory interest. “Feeling protective of your Chosen, child?” he scorned. “He willingly conceded to my possession.”

“Josiah is waiting for you back at the palace. Go twist him further. Not Haken.”

A sliver of his subconscious reproached him for his error. Agni would jump on this with his claws readily extracted. Now that he knew Micah’s feelings on the subject, he’d take full advantage. Haken was already treading on dangerous grounds with his connection to Micah. Agni would have no qualms tampering with him.  

Suddenly, a low siren wailed in the direction of the palace. Micah heard it once before, back when the capital was under attack.

A hand suddenly snaked down his cloak and grabbed his chain. Agni twisted it around his fist until it choked Micah, nearly cutting off his air supply. Their positions abruptly reversed.

“It appears as if Calder discovered his exotic bird has escaped from its cage,” Agni crooned, pressing his full weight against Micah and tightening the chain. “We can either go back to the palace to consummate our agreement, or, I can accompany you on this foolhardy mission in the body of your Chosen.”

Micah seethed. Agni preened.

He didn’t have time for this. “Fine,” he managed to choke out.

A slender eyebrow rose. “Fine? Fine to what? Retiring for the evening?”

Haken’s eyes possessed a decant glimmer that should have never been present. With the chain curled around his hand, Agni pressed his fist against Micah’s throat, extracting even more pressure. Against Micah’s hip, he felt the unmistakable evidence of the other man’s growing excitement. He could _feel_ it through his link with Haken how oppressive the hunger really was.

It was a dangerous and addicting excitement. It fueled Micah’s own desire. The firm hold against the wall, the adrenaline in both their bodies, the way Agni easily controlled his air intake… it all fueled his own pleasure. He felt his body responding just as well, hating himself for it, but realizing how easy it would be to succumb to the craving. Fortunately, his desire to retrieve Kai was stronger than his carnal cravings. As was his bitterness of Agni and the man’s callousness the past several hours.

“You seem rather eager to consummate said bond with someone you will replace and ‘find another’,” Micah rasped.

The sly smirk across Haken’s face seemed to freeze and the man’s eyes lost a bit of their heat. The choking pressure around his throat lessened, almost turning slack. “That was spoken in error,” the god said quietly.

An apology.

In his own, special way.

It was almost shocking to hear it.

Micah considered the man opposite of him, both pleased and still bitter. He grabbed the chain from Agni’s hands and tugged it forward, forcing the man closer. “Why would you apologize for possessing the ability of wounding someone with just a few words? I will someday possess that power over you and I will revere in that sensation.”

“You already hold that power,” Agni responded.

Hardly believing, Micah pressed his palm against Haken’s chest and pushed. Agni allowed the action, stepping away and dropping the hold on the chain. Quickly brushing past the entity, Micah threw up the hood of his cloak and resumed his route to the academy. “I still feel him, his influence,” he observed darkly. “Dushyanta.”

“He is a coward,” Agni replied irately. “He weaves his influence and hides in the shadows. Playing this game of hide and seek is trying my patience. Fortunately, I wounded him enough to destroy his hold over the capital. The web will take quite a while to crumble completely, but he will not reconstruct another.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“He’s using most his power to try to heal himself,” he answered simply. “Now that I’m aware of his presence, he wouldn’t have the audacity to linger in the capital. He’ll make one last effort of destroying you by following you out of the capital.”

Micah glanced at the man behind him. “You know I’m leaving the capital.”

He did not pose it as a question, but rather a proclamation.

Agni replied anyway.  “You weren’t exactly subtle this morning as you demanded your noble dog’s whereabouts from Seaton Edlen.” Haken smirked in the face of Micah’s distaste. “Your Chosen also has a very vivid recollection of telling you he wasn’t in Region 5.”

It unnerved him. The fact that Agni could possess someone and instantly absorb all the memories of his vessel. No doubt the man would find great pleasure analyzing Micah’s interaction with Haken earlier that evening. Which meant he would eventually recover Josiah’s memories.

“I have my suspicions he’s in Region 20.” Micah turned back around, quickening his pace. “Seaton would find it ironically fitting to send him back to my hometown.”

“He _is_ in Region 20.”

That caused Micah to stop short. He rounded on Agni, unable to believe the man _knew._ “All this time?” he demanded. “You knew?”

Haken’s expression remained nonchalant. “Don’t be silly, child.”  He bumped shoulders with Micah and continued down the sidewalk. “I briefly brushed Seaton’s mind this morning as I left the palace to find Dushyanta.”

“You could have told me sooner.”

“I am not here to spoon-feed you,” came the cruel reply.

“No, you’re here to mold me into your image.”

Haken inclined his head. “You’re rather melodramatic tonight.”

Micah caught up with Haken and grabbed the Healer’s elbow. It was enough to cause the other man to stop in his tracks. “If anything happens to Kai…” he trailed off, his fingers turning into claws.

“You’ll what?” Haken’s tone was both derisive and amused. “I’ve already told you that it is not my job to look after your toys. I don’t care enough to waste any sort of effort watching over them. That is your obligation.”

“Don’t pretend this is not working in your favor.” Micah released Haken’s bony elbow and shoved him. The boy stumbled. “This is some kind of lesson to harden me. Just like it was with Keegan.”

Confusion slotted across Haken’s expression at the mention of Keegan. “Who?”

Micah hissed loudly through his teeth. “Bastard.”  

He pushed forward, quickening his pace into a sprint. Agni’s vessel was not physically active. Micah hoped that meant it would take Agni effort to keep up with him.  

He didn’t understand this _thrall_ with Agni. No matter what the entity did, no matter what twisted things he conceived, Micah found his attraction for Agni always undisturbed. Even now, as persistent irritation thrummed beneath his skin, he was still conscious of the painstaking draw, the lure. It wasn’t a docile and gentle attraction. It was angry and passionate.

_Fire and ice,_ he supplied scornfully in his mind.

He was an idiot.

As the web above crumbled into ash, and the siren blared behind him, Micah pushed himself until he finally reached the academy. Because visitors often times made an appearance at the academy throughout the day, they did not lock down the doors until after supper. His pulse beat profoundly in his throat as he entered the military school through the back arena.

A sense of nostalgia led him down the familiar corridors.

It hadn’t been long since he’d last been there, yet he missed it and his team profoundly.

“They are just fine,” Agni drawled behind him.

Micah ignored him. The corridors were surprisingly crowded for the supper hour, though he supposed even inside, they could hear the palace siren. It would not surprise him if the academy allocated assignments to students in order to temper the riots. _Or hunt down the missing prince,_ Micah thought snidely. A few students glanced questionably in his direction, but refrained from getting in his way.

Without any sort of invitation to enter, he threw open the doors to his team’s quarters.

They all turned in his direction. All four. They were all present. Safe. Unharmed. Micah absorbed the sight greedily, unable to believe something actually worked in his favor. Shutting the doors behind Haken, Micah pushed back his hood and stepped in the middle of the room. It was good to be back. Back where he felt in control. Back to simplicity.

“ _Micah,_ ” Talia exclaimed, standing from her bed.

All the others were in various stages of surprise and elation.

Viktor leapt from the top bunk with an overjoyed laugh. “I told you he’d be back!” he declared wildly. For a moment, he appeared as if he were going to throw his arms around Micah, but caught sight of his solemn expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Get ready.” Micah looked at Cain. “We’re going to rescue Kai.”

They all stood stupidly.

_“Now!”_ Micah barked.

They spurred into action, immediately following his order. Micah understood their confusion, but now wasn’t the time for explanations or discussions. The palace already had several parties trying to contain the riots, but Micah did not doubt Calder would use what little resources he had remaining to tear apart the capital to look for him. To prevent him from going. To prevent him from reaching Kai. Especially after their quarrel this morning, Calder would assume Micah was fleeing.

While that was partially true, Micah intended to come back, albeit reluctantly. He just needed to act before Calder found him. Before the nobles or anyone else decided to use his team against him. With the murders across the capital of the biracial citizens, Micah believed anyone was capable of putting his team in harm’s way.  

As Agni said, the web would take time in completely crumbling. Until it was gone, Micah trusted no one.

He walked down the aisle of bunkbeds as his team hurriedly dressed in their gear.

His attention fell on his mattress and then to Kai’s. Both beds were made neatly, untouched for weeks. Ignoring the feeling of desolation, Micah stood at the foot of Kai’s bed and rummaged through his trunk. Grabbing the extra sword and holster, he hesitated before also collecting a cloak. Even under dire conditions, Kai would scorn him for taking his things

_God,_ he missed the other man.

“Here.” He handed the belongings to Haken.

Amber eyes penetrated through Micah as he accepted the weapon and robe. Fortunately, he kept his mouth closed, _graciously_ allowing Micah to take the lead while he remained a quiet fixture in the shadows.

“Who is he?” Aiden asked.

“A fire Elemental,” Micah responded stiffly. “Less talk, more action, Aiden.”

He turned back to face the team, noticing Viktor was the first to finish. The boy’s short, messy hair seemed even more askew tonight, his uniform even more so. Yet he stood at attention, his posture proud and ready as he waited for further instruction.

Micah hovered in front of him, exasperatedly fond of the boy.

Viktor gazed up at him. “It’s good to have you back, captain.”   

Micah hadn’t just missed Kai. He’d missed them all.

Feeling foolishly sentimental, and knowing Agni would enjoy mocking every minute of it, Micah reached out and clapped Viktor on the shoulder.

“King Calder will lock down the trains shortly,” Haken’s voice broke through the stiff atmosphere of the room. “I imagine you don’t want to walk to Region 20.”

“How very perceptive of you, Haken.” Once he made sure the others were ready, Micah nodded and motioned them forward. “Let’s go.”

 


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Veterans Day: A special thanks to all the men and women who have served ♥

**22\. Chapter Twenty-Two**

 

“Talia never pushes us this hard.” Viktor bemoaned. “We’re out of practice.”

“Faster,” Micah urged unsympathetically.

He was just as out of practice as the rest of them, though he’d never tell them that. They sprinted through the hazy maze of the train depot, having just knocked three guards unconscious. It wouldn’t be long until other guards took notice of their unconscious comrades and gathered more numbers. They had no time for confrontations.

As Agni pointed out earlier, Calder would close the train system down if he hadn’t already issued the order.

Between the steam from the trains, the smoke from the distant riots, and their dust-covered surroundings, a heavy wall of fog ghosted the surface of the ground and hovered just above waist level.

The street lamps cast golden hues across the train yard, emphasizing the thickness of the fog and casting everything else in various shades of silhouettes. In the distance, the palace siren continued to blare. Because they were so far away, the distance warped the loud siren and deepened it into a distorted and eerie moan. Their unnerving surroundings, paired with Dushyanta’s web, did little to encourage Micah and the team. He could feel their hesitance behind him like a persistent companion.

Running a hand across the side of a train, his gloved fingers encountered large flakes of peeling metal. Most the trains in the yard were unused and abandoned, scenting the air with a distinct rust-like odor.

Fortunately, the several yards of unused machinery was almost behind them.

While they neared the active area of the rail yard, Micah realized they might not succeed in finding a train leaving the capital. The chances of happening upon a locomotive departing for Region 20 was doubtful, yet he wasn’t against commandeering one himself. How difficult could it be? Surely, with Agni’s hundreds of lifetimes under his belt, he’d have experience in all aspects of science, technology, and methodology. Conducting a train would be the least challenging thing he’d encountered.

Just as Micah was about to lead the team over a pair of tracks, he ducked back around a train upon encountering a few shadows shifting just down the way. As he and the team crouched and waited behind a train, Micah’s attention landed on the rickety ladder positioned at the back of the caboose. He then eyed the distance from one unused train to the next abandoned machine, realizing they were conveniently close.

Close enough to travel above— in the air.

With feline grace, Micah grabbed the unstable ladder and climbed the back of the train. The rusting piece of metal groaned softly under his weight, yet he was confident the sound could not compete with the sirens across the capital.

As he motioned the others to follow, he crouched on top the train, observing the rail yard. Just down the way, guards swarmed between the trains, yelling amongst each other and searching for something. Or someone.

_Him._

Did Calder already shutdown the rail yard?

“Clear!”

“All clear!”

“Get ready to close it down!”

Amongst the shouts, the unmistakable sound of train engines chugging into acceleration resounded throughout the depot. Several guards jumped from the furthest two trains, one sluggishly moving east, the other moving west. Micah stared skeptically, unable to believe their good fortune. There was a chance he was wrong, but it was their only chance.

“Listen to me.” The team, who’d all managed to settle beside him, turned to him with surprise, noticing the severity in his tone. “You see that train headed west? The furthest one?” 

With his index and middle finger, he pointed to a familiar-looking train.

He’d never forget it. How could he? Residents from Region 20 always waited skeptically and bitterly for that freight train to deliver goods from the capital. The flaking, crimson—nearly charcoal— engine always tugged along, carrying supplies in exchange for the jerky and spices they’d cultivated for the capital residents.

Micah never imagined he’d see that train again. “We need to be on that train _now_.”

Without further prompt, Talia was the first to spring up and leap across the trains with impressive elegance.

Standing after her departure, Micah ushered the others to move. “Go, go!”  

Aiden was the last to follow the others, clumsily finding his balance as he jumped on the neighboring train. Even Agni, who did not possess a physically capable vessel, managed to make Aiden look unimpressive. The young Igni man crouched down on the unused locomotive, bracing himself awkwardly. He truly looked pained and nauseated as he considered the moving trains.

“Aiden,” Micah admonished quietly. “We don’t have time for this.”

“I can’t.”

Micah grabbed the boy’s arm and hoisted him to his feet. “Yes, you _can_.”

Haken and Cain both sprinted on top the train headed east before jumping on the train moving in the opposite direction. Talia and Viktor were already on top, reaching for the two men to steady their balance and cement their positions.

“I’m afraid of heights and _moving_ heights especially—”

“Kai is in trouble.” He shook Aiden harshly. “Do you understand that?”

Aiden nodded hastily and yanked his arm from Micah’s hold. His movements were taut as he leapt across the immobile trains, pausing considerably before jumping awkwardly on the train moving east. Only when he regained complete balance did he start sprinting down the boxcars towards the westbound train.

Micah followed, only jumping on the eastbound train when Aiden finally made it on top of the train traveling to Region 20. He already knew he’d be too late. Nonetheless, he sprinted faster, pushing himself as fast as he’d ever gone. Kai waited long enough. Micah refused to make him wait any longer by missing the last opportunity.

The opposite moving trains slid by one another, no longer parallel.

Micah leapt off the edge of the caboose and soared through the air. His hands reached out as far as they’d go, hoping to grab _anything_ before he fell. The top of the ladder slipped through his hands and he tumbled. Fortunately, his right hand scarcely found its way around a ladder rung. His body flopped ungracefully against the side of the train, the impact jarring his ribs and dislocating his shoulder.

He heaved in extreme agony just as Viktor screamed his name.

Dangling limply from the ladder, Micah found himself incapable of pulling himself up with his shoulder searing in pain, as well as the wound that had just started to heal near his ribcage. He hung uselessly. Through dazed eyes, he observed the guards motioning after the train, having spied their not-so-skilled departure. It didn’t matter. They only needed transportation to Region 20. This train would not make any stops, nor did it have communication to the capital.

It was a mere freight train delivering supplies. Slower than most modern-day trains, but transportation nonetheless.

“Micah!”

He looked up, spying his team peering over the side of the train. Cain, being the burliest and strongest member, reached down to assist him. With his uninjured arm, Micah reached up and grabbed the man’s hand.

“We thought you didn’t make it,” Talia worried as Micah flopped unceremoniously on the top of the train. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t imagine he is _okay,_ Talia.”

“Did you see that? That was great!”

“It looks like we aren’t the only ones out of practice.”

Micah stared listlessly at the dark sky as they spoke amongst themselves, his body trembling wildly and twitching with overuse. A shadow fell over him and his attention honed on Haken.

“Impressive,” Agni praised, succeeding in making it a derisive insult.

Micah closed his eyes.

“I don’t think he’s okay…”

“Will you all be quiet?” Micah asked softly. “Just… quiet.”

They allotted him a moment of silence until Viktor spoke. Of course it was Viktor. “How did you know this train was going to Region 20, Micah? What if it’s going to the Terra Kingdom?” He paused. “And what about Kai? We haven’t heard anything—”

“Viktor,” Talia scolded.

“I found a boxcar with a hatch,” Cain’s voice sounded further down the way. “It has some crates, hopefully with some food.”

“Food! What are we going to do about _food_?” Viktor screamed near Micah’s face.

“Don’t expect any food in those crates,” Micah murmured quietly, trying to regain his strength. “This train is going to Region 20 with supplies.”

He hadn’t really thought about food. Water. Necessities. They were going to be on this train for two or three days. He understood his error. These trains were for textiles and other miscellaneous goods. Most of the surplus food traveled by vendors from region to region. Trains did not carry food unless it was in the form of rations. God, he hoped there were rations. And water. There had to be water.

“Let’s get you inside.”

Haken—Agni—reached down to hoist Micah off his back. However, Micah turned away from the unrequited assistance and sat up by himself. Gradually familiarizing himself with the speed and motion of the freight train, he stood on his feet. Just up ahead, the other members of the team jumped down inside a boxcar, leaving him alone with the warily amused god.

“You don’t have any idea what to do,” Agni observed. “Do you, child?”

“Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to pack gourmet spreads and blankets for everyone in our group,” Micah countered spitefully. “My main priority was getting out of the capital before it proved impossible.”

“If you would have waited for the web’s total destruction, I imagine your father would have granted you permission to leave. Perhaps he would have even loaned you some of his men. And food. And water.”

Micah glanced at Agni with disbelief. “Time is not a luxury,” he whispered icily. “Nor is the _possibility_ of Calder’s assistance. You and I both know Calder is volatile and not in his right mind at the moment. Who knows how long the influence of the web will take to disappear from him. He could have let me go, yes, or he could have tightened the reins. I couldn’t have taken that chance. I needed to get Kai now.”

Agni tutted. “Stubborn.” His eyes glimmered maliciously. “I suppose, if it comes down to it, we could just eat the weakest.”

Narrowing his eyes, and ignoring the comment entirely, Micah considered the white teeth displayed into a feral leer. “Why did you come?” he inquired suspiciously. “You could have stayed behind and finished chasing Dushyanta out of the capital. Instead, you left prematurely in order to accompany me on this ‘foolhardy’ mission.”

“I can fight him easier in the wastelands.” Haken’s lip twitched with dark humor. “Not many places to run and hide like a rodent.”

“What if he stays at the capital? Respins his web?”

“His main goal is to destroy you; therefore, he follows you everywhere and waits for his chance.”

“On the tour—”

“But he was there, wasn’t he?” Agni mused thoughtfully. “He would not tempt fate by acting in the Terra Kingdom where both Prithvi and myself would stand against him. Prithvi would not welcome him, nor his antics in her territory. Vayu, however, would let him roam free. And he did.”

Micah considered the attack during his stay at the Eurus Empire. Vayu claimed he ‘had to try’ to eliminate Micah. That indicated he and Dushyanta were in contact and he’d happily assisted the god of enmity where he could. “Regardless.” Micah made a move toward the open boxcar. “You could have dealt with him at the capital and prevented him from following, Agni.”

The man did not respond, prompting Micah to turn back around. The unfathomable stare took him aback and Micah hastily searched for a reason behind it. What had he done to encourage such a response?

“You said it,” Agni proclaimed smugly. “My name.”

Micah scowled when he realized it was true. When he first unveiled Josiah as Agni, he’d told himself he would not refer to the fire god by his true name, both in his head and aloud. Josiah would be Josiah. Haken just Haken. Despite his insistence, he realized he was beginning to refer to the fire god by name far more frequently.

“I won’t let it happen again.”

Agni morphed Haken’s features into something entirely unreadable as he regarded Micah. Even in the darkness, as they traveled away from the lights of the capital, he noted the way Haken’s stare unfocused. It was almost as if he were contemplating the right way to say something. However, hesitancy was very much unlike Agni and it only served to put Micah on edge with the implications.

“There may be another one, Ezra. That’s why I chose to accompany you.”

He processed the man’s solemn statement, trying to work out the ambiguous comment without asking. He didn’t get very far. “Another one?”

“A Syphon.”

Micah’s spine stiffened. Haken’s expression was hard now and cruelly intrigued as he watched Micah’s reaction. Alone on top the chugging train, nothing interrupted their consideration of the other.

“It’s an elaborate trap,” Micah realized numbly.

“So elaborate that you are willingly walking into it.”

“And _you_ ,” Micah countered.

Dushyanta had to be working with a Syphon. There was no other explanation. Only gods could erect Syphons from their slumber. Micah rose one unknowingly, only succeeding because of Agni’s suffocating presence ingrained in his system, making him appear like a demigod. A Syphon had possession of Kai because Dushyanta influenced Seaton Edlen to send his son to Region 20. Both Dushyanta and the Syphon succeeded in luring Micah away from the capital, away from a number of allies and mortals, just to ambush him as he tried to rescue Kai.

 _A Syphon had Kai_. Micah continued mulling over the scenario, unable to grasp it completely. It made him impatient, alarmed, and vulnerable. He imagined the flickering entity he’d encountered a handful of times. Just being in the same vicinity as the entity was enough to leave him cold with fear. He could only imagine how Kai was fairing after so long in its presence.

“How do you know, _Agni_?” Micah asked quietly, his tone like ice.

Agni smirked. “You won’t like the answer, _Micah_.”

He seemed every bit delighted rather than perturbed over Micah’s anticipated reaction. That only led Micah to believe he would unearth something Agni had done in the past. Another manipulation, perhaps. Another sly way he’d moved Micah across the board.

“Yes!” a voice proclaimed loudly from inside the boxcar.

It took quite a bit of effort, but Micah managed to tear his eyes from the sparkling wickedness of Agni.

“Liquor. Micah!” Viktor’s head poked up through the top of the boxcar as he hailed a bottle of rum. “I think this trip to Region 20 will go by before we know it.” Viktor’s grin faltered at Micah’s expression. He then looked accusingly at Haken, immediately drawing the conclusion the newcomer to their group was at blame. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine, Viktor.”

Haken’s hand landed on Micah’s shoulder. Upon the contact, pain blossomed and Micah lurched away, hissing with agitation. “We need to reset your shoulder,” Agni’s tone was stuffy and professional as he tried to mimic Haken. “Let’s get you into the compartment.”

Micah glowered, staring into the passing scenery with unhappy eyes. He wanted to stay here and dissect Agni’s explanations. He _needed_ to know. Know everything. However, he’d never know everything with Agni, would he? He’d present Micah with a revelation, but that would only scrape the surface. Micah could only accept Agni’s word dubiously, keeping in mind that there would undoubtedly be _more to it._

Agni could spin truths as easily as a spider could spin webs. Though the Igni people proudly claimed Agni’s spirit animal the desert serpent, Micah wondered if a spider was a more appropriate comparison. Who cared if Dushyanta already took that platform? His webs did not mean his character appropriately coincided with the spider.

Ignoring Agni’s comment entirely, Micah made his way to the open boxcar.

Viktor ducked down, allowing him room.

Flames suddenly engulfed Haken’s hand, lighting the way down. The team piled crates near the open door, creating a makeshift staircase. Micah simply bypassed it by dropping down and landing in a crouch.

He moved just in time for Agni to follow suit.

“Thank _Varuna_ we have a fire Elemental with us,” Viktor commented, staring at Haken with the same skepticism, but reluctant appreciation. “We can’t see anything down here. So far we’ve only discovered booze.”

“Only _you’ve_ discovered booze,” Talia corrected stonily. “We’re not hungry, nor concerned with provisions at the moment. We need to talk, Micah. There are a lot of things we need answers to.”

Near the end of the boxcar, surrounded by sparse crates, Micah noted Aiden and Cain sitting next to her. The smell inside the boxcar brought back vivid memories of Region 20. Spices and jerky. The desert regions were renowned for their boar jerky, after all, and their array of exotic spices that the capital did not particularly appreciate on their own food.

Haken flicked his wrist, sending a flame to the floor. The fire burned a bright blue and orange, eating away at nothing and only providing comfortable heat and a warm glow to light their surroundings.

Micah stared at the purple hue in the middle of the flame, entranced.

“I’ll tell you anything you need to know,” he murmured in response to Talia’s statement. She and the others all appeared anxious, though Viktor still rummaged through some of the crates with a seemingly carefree disposition. “This is Haken Anwar,” Micah introduced dimly, motioning to the hovering fire god next to him. “He is… my personal Healer at the palace.”

“It is a pleasure,” Agni purred without much conviction. “Sit, Micah.”

Haken placed his hands lightly on Micah’s shoulder, barely applying pressure, but spurring enough pain to force him into action. Reluctantly, and with a proud, stiff spine, Micah lowered himself to the ground across from his team. Haken sat with him, pulling at his cloak and unclasping it from around his shoulders. He then unfastened Micah’s sword holster, his hands going around to the front of his torso with gleeful and agonizing slowness.

Micah clenched his teeth as the hands then pulled at his stiff jacket.

“I will set it back in place,” Agni said. “It may be a bit sore for several days. Fortunately, it was not your dominant arm.”

Micah bit his tongue, stifling the urge to tell the man to keep his hands to himself. Regrettably, Haken was a Healer in the eyes of his team. It would not be wise to spur further skepticism over Haken’s presence than necessary.

Agni removed Micah’s jacket slowly, managing to make the act far more intimate than it should have been. Once Micah was down to his simple tunic, Agni’s warm fingers and palms smoothed firmly over the tense muscles of Micah’s back, the makeshift flames he’d conjured earlier effectively veiling his actions from the team.

 “Relax,” he murmured in Micah’s ear, pressing domineeringly against his back.

Micah closed his eyes against the provocation.

Fingernails trailed deliberately—possessively— across his back muscles, alighting a warmth against his cold skin and creating an irresistible friction. Was it so bad that he wanted Agni to apply more pressure? To dig his nails deeper?  Though sexual intimacy was often times— _most times—_ suggested during his interactions with Agni, they’d never truly touched one another. Kissed, perhaps, rutted on occasion, but never touched one another in such a soothing, familiar way.

There was something intimate about it. Something so _right._ Something he wanted to experience further.

Micah focused on the movement of his team, realizing that was the only thing keeping him grounded. It was wrong to think of sensual gratification at this time. Yet, the more he tried to ignore the reaction Agni roused from him, the heavier it remained a persistent weight at the back of his mind.

“As you know, I had to leave for a political tour a couple weeks ago, but during my absence, Sachiel promised me he’d locate Kai,” Micah said slowly as Agni’s hands found his swollen and hot shoulder. “When I returned, he proclaimed Kai was in Region 5’s military school.”

Agni cupped his elbow with one hand and pressed his shoulder with another. Too soon, without warning, he twisted abruptly, forcing Micah’s shoulder back into position. Extreme pain blossomed and Micah screamed with his mouth closed, well aware of Agni drinking in his pain with spellbound eyes.

“Your pain is delicious,” the god proclaimed quietly.

Heat pooled in his stomach and groin as Agni continued to hold him captive, his fingers unrelenting and authoritative as they felt for proper placement of his shoulder.

“But we’re going to Region 20?” Aiden asked.

Micah blinked, breathing painfully through his nose as Agni’s fingers slid away with deliberate slowness. He continued to face forward, knowing that if he turned around and looked at the god, he would be far too gone to come back.

 _Focus,_ he admonished himself.

“Just today,” he forced the words from his mouth. “I found out that Seaton did not send him to Region 5, but to Region 20. A trial of sorts, to force Kai’s loyalty to his family.”

“That’s a peculiar way of reestablishing control.” Viktor pulled himself away from the crates and approached the rest of the team. He sat next to Micah, his youthful features lined with trepidation and concern. “Was it because Kai refused to withdraw his support from you?”

Micah shifted away from Agni, his shoulder still throbbing with pain and soreness. The distance helped clear his mind and refocus his attention. He adjusted his position so he could see each member of his team. Their features were solemn and stark in the firelight. His mood plummeted. Whatever fantasy he’d briefly dabbled with Agni was now gone. Grim reality took its place.

“I don’t know the circumstances around Kai’s disappearance. Seaton proved… unhelpful in that regard,” he said, remembering just that morning. “But I’m assuming you are all aware of the high nobility forming an alliance against me and creating partition between myself and Calder. They are forcing others to denounce any ties with me and stand in Calder’s hoard of nobles or face social ostracism.”

Viktor and Talia looked away in shame.

“From our position,” Aiden started, “It seems as if there are more parties than just the high nobility siding against you with King Calder leading the Unda nobles and Lord Josiah leading the Igni people. You cannot be upset with Talia and Viktor for their families choosing King Calder. Your following is so small and unproven.”

Micah’s stare cut through the fire, pinning Aiden with sharp regard.

The Igni boy looked away submissively.

“Where, Aiden, did I give you any sort of impression that I was upset with Viktor or Talia?” he inquired with a lethal croon.

The team all gazed at Aiden, waiting for the boy’s explanation.

“Aiden clearly follows Lord Josiah,” Viktor accused, sounding unusually upset. “Maybe it’s his own guilt he wants to get out into the open.”

“I do not!” Aiden argued. “Ever since Cain’s mother allied herself with Micah, and your parents decided against doing the same, you two have been acting strangely. It’s as if you’re ashamed of your families’ decision. Considering Micah has no following, anyone would agree they were acting in their own best interests.”

Well the boy certainly had no qualms speaking his mind…

“Micah has more of a following than you think he does.” Surprisingly, Cain spoke up, his tone and expression both fiercely defending. “Most people who support him are not narrow-minded and stunted. They’re just afraid to speak up with all the hostility.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult, Cain?” Aiden demanded, probably just as surprised as the rest of them over the prospect of an outspoken Cain.

“So you are admitting you don’t support Micah?” Viktor inquired.

“How do you conjure that assumption from my question?”

“It was implied you felt insulted over his comment. Maybe you are narrow-minded and stunted.”

Micah watched the team argue amongst each other, realizing the current topic was a sensitive subject with them. He hadn’t considered the ramifications his political standings would have on his team. Yes, he realized they’d experience some semblance of backlash, especially remaining as neutral as they were, he just hadn’t assumed it would be amongst each other. He thought, by leaving the academy, they wouldn’t have to deal with such messy and silly complications like politics.

His team’s discord, at the present, was unacceptable. Especially with Agni watching delightedly next to him.

As the temperature plummeted in the boxcar, the orange and blue fire spluttered and flickered wildly before extinguishing. A strong sense of satisfaction coiled within Micah as he snuffed out the fire.

Darkness cloaked the team, immediately putting an end to the arguments.

“Micah?” Talia asked uncertainly.

He stood up. The open hatch from above allowed enough lighting to observe their startled expressions. He watched for a moment as their breath escaped in visible clouds, fascinated, but reluctantly forcing himself to calm. He did not want to scare them, nor freeze them. A part of him whispered he’d never have to worry about losing control with Agni. The god could take care of himself as he harnessed an Element worthy enough to counterbalance against the cold.

“Allegiances are not the reason I brought you tonight,” he said taciturnly. “Forget about alliances and politics. Moving forward, think only of bringing a member of our team home. We work together. We have a common purpose.” Their expressions all reflected their despondent understanding. “I understand there are things we need to discuss, things political in nature, but let’s focus on getting Kai back first.” He glanced at Aiden and Viktor. “Is that clear?”

“Understood,” Viktor chirped obediently.

When Aiden nodded his consent, Micah turned his heel.

“Get some sleep. We have a long few days ahead of us. We will scavenge through the crates tomorrow.”

Silence followed him deeper into the boxcar, as did their eyes as they undoubtedly tried to peel away the shadows and observe his whereabouts. He ignored the heavy quiet and maneuvered between the sparse crates. Hopefully the other boxcars proved fuller. Not only for his team during these next couple days, but also for the residents of Region 20.

Reaching out, his hands groped the side of the compartment, finding the lever after several failed fumbles. Rotating it, he pushed open the sliding door, fresh air assaulting him and his stale surroundings.

Micah closed his eyes against the cool night, knowing the temperature would gradually increase the further south they travelled. He didn’t know if he was ready to face Region 20 again—in all its despair and warped memories. He’d have to confront them, however. For Kai.

Dropping his holster and jacket on the ground, Micah settled himself at the edge of the open door, leaning his head against the frame. Just down the way, he could hear Viktor and Aiden arguing with each other again, though Talia hushed them quickly. He watched the distancing palace. The further they traveled from the capital, the stronger the stars above shone.

There was something beautiful about the desolation and the stillness.

Agni appeared as silently as a shadow, perching next to Micah on the ground and draping his legs outside the boxcar. He considered the passing landscape before turning to look at Micah. For quite some time, the two men observed the other silently, waiting for the other to break first.

Micah decided to bow. “How did you know about the other Syphon?” he asked softly.

Agni’s eyes possessed an ethereal light as they regarded Micah closely. “Your mother was not sick. She never was.” From beneath Haken’s spectacles, his gaze remained intent. “Something should have clued you in to that particular fact when your healing abilities did not transfer her own illness onto you.”

Micah pondered on that, remembering, upon his arrival at the capital, Healer Destan and Josiah speaking to each other privately after his physical examination. Clearly, they hadn’t found anything wrong with him besides malnourishment. He supposed, with the way his healing worked, he would have absorbed his mother’s illness when he tried to make her better. Besides the occasional nausea, he hadn’t absorbed anything that put him down for the day.

“I had assumed it was specific to her. Something that could not attach onto me.”

“But that’s not how your healing works, is it? You absorb the victim’s aliments and damage onto yourself. I imagine you could absorb almost anything that afflicts them.”

Micah pursed his lips and looked away from the stare. Throughout his childhood, Ember was always ill. Somedays she’d felt better than others. Most the time, he shouldered the responsibility of taking care of their living conditions. Food. Shelter. Security. He’d quickly lost his childhood innocence by struggling in such a cruel world by himself.

“What are you implying, exactly?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

Pulling his gaze from the sky, he reassessed the lazy figure of Haken. “She was possessed by a Syphon.”

“Close, but not quite.”

Micah frowned. “A god.”

A small, nearly obscured smirk lifted the corner of Haken’s mouth. “Correct, child.”

“Unwillingly, clearly. I was told a human vessel would suffer if they did not consent to the possession of a god.” Micah shook his head. “She was fighting. For how long? What… what was the purpose of having her possessed?”

“I could not watch you constantly,” Agni replied indifferently. “Nor would I chance her instability harming you in my absence. Therefore, I had one of my more loyal allies agree to possess her and guarantee your safety when I was not there. The god possessing her did not fight for control, nor was he a particularly powerful god. That is why your mother was able to survive as long as she did with the possession. Did you truly think I’d let her take you into a world so harsh and so cruel alone?”

Micah frowned. “Just how much of my life have you encompassed, exactly?”

“I told you.” Haken cocked his head to the side and smiled in the face of Micah’s anger. “I touched you at conception. I’ve stayed with you since.”

The hairs on his arms stood and Micah had to look away to hide his unease. He glanced over his shoulder, observing the huddled figures of his teammates across the compartment. They were talking quietly amongst themselves, entirely ignorant.

“Kapardi was his name,” Agni continued. “The god who watched over you in your mother’s skin. I became aware of his absence when I tried to reach out to him. Mostly to locate your mother, but only silence came from his end.”

Micah turned his attention to the thinning trees, pleased when the train began its gradual bend south. Viktor’s fears were for naught. They were turning away from the Terra Kingdom and traveling to the sand pits and desert regions. “Kapardi,” he tested the name on his tongue. “And you think, what, exactly?” He squinted into the passing landscape. “The god eater consumed him?”

“I felt his passing.”

That made Micah pause. “And what happened to my mother?” he demanded.

Agni shook his head and gazed outside. “I don’t know what happened to Ember, Ezra. There is a good chance she’s still alive.”

He mulled over the information, unhappy, but reluctantly realizing he wasn’t going to get anything further about Ember from Agni. Somehow, someway, he’d have to discover that information by himself. Either Agni truly did not know or he was hiding something further. Micah supposed he should feel relieved that Ember wasn’t truly sick, at least in the physical sense. That meant she had a better chance of surviving on her own. She was out there somewhere, he knew. Perhaps scheming, perhaps content with hiding in the shadows.

Whatever it was, Micah felt at ease knowing she was no longer suffering. No longer tied down by Agni’s manipulations. No longer having to share her body with a foreign entity.

Finding out that Agni had requested one of his god allies to possess his mother truly did not surprise Micah, nor did it make him any more or less bitter about the god’s treatment of his mother. He’d known long ago that Agni manipulated Ember to his satisfaction, not willing to take the chance of Micah developing into a man that would not suit his needs.

Whatever those needs were.

He believed Agni when the man said Karpardi did not try to take control of Ember. There was just a god lingering beneath the surface, watching and making sure Micah was not harmed by his unstable mother, but rather by the cruel hands of society. While he came to accept this revelation, it didn’t mean he _liked_ it.

Nevertheless, getting upset with Agni about his childhood would solve little. It was in the past. There was no reversing things. They’d already spoken about it some time ago. Agni would not feel any remorse for the way things turned out, simply because he’d predetermined outcomes before Micah’s conception.

Instead, he opted to tuck away the information for later. “You can feel it when a god passes?” Micah inquired. “You said gods don’t die—not in the sense, at least, as mortals.”

“They can be consumed by Syphons. It is why gods fear them so much.”

Micah had known that. He just hadn’t realized the extent of a god’s ‘death’. It seemed, however, that gods could truly die. Cease to exist. “Then why would Dushyanta willingly work with a Syphon?”

“Who said they were working together?”

“It all seems too convenient,” Micah replied. “Dushyanta coerces Seaton to send Kai to Region 20 where the Syphon happens to be?”

“Syphons grow impressively stronger upon the consumption of a god. This one in Region 20 is undoubtedly stronger than the one who has taken an interest in your blood.” Agni paused. “It has stayed in the shadows, knowing when best to strike. It anticipated this end game and positioned itself in Region 20.”

“What better way to grow stronger than consuming the god of fire and the god of enmity?” Micah murmured, easily following Agni’s logic. “It knows you two are coming.”

“Indeed.”

“A plan so elaborate that you are willingly walking into it,” Micah repeated Agni’s earlier words on top the train.

“Willingly, yes. It works out in my favor. I can get rid of both the Syphon and Dushyanta this way.”

Micah noted the arrogance in Agni’s tone—the certainty—and wondered why he felt an itch of trepidation down his spine. “You told Vayu he couldn’t destroy the Syphon when we were in Eurus.”

“A god cannot destroy a Syphon, no,” Agni consented. Surprisingly, he was being rather informative tonight. Rather open and willing to answer Micah’s questions. Then again, perhaps he’d always been this way, Micah just hadn’t mustered up the courage to ask the right questions. “But some of us have the power, the capability, of putting them to sleep in their own realm. I believe this specific Syphon escaped notice for several centuries, before all the others were imprisoned in their own realm.”

Micah frowned, the cold, rushing wind stinging his cheeks. “Were Syphons always asleep? Were they always locked away in their realm?”

“Gods and Syphons are extensions of the same entity,” Agni murmured quietly, his tone particularly hypnotic. “From an outsider, one represents good, the other represents evil. Dark and light. We have our own realms and have never lived in harmony.”

Micah’s lips twitched, drawing vague similarities between the Igni and Unda people. Something was there. Something intangible and important, but quick to escape from his reach. “And daemons are a lesser form of Syphons while minor gods are lesser forms of more powerful gods,” Micah mulled. “I can only assume you had a war once—a long time ago. Many books claimed daemons had a purpose originally. They no longer hold that purpose, it seems, but are rather exiled to their realm. Prisoners because they ‘fell’.”  

“A war? I suppose.”

Micah glanced at Agni, noticing the faraway expression on the man’s face.

“Syphons and daemons were forced to sleep long ago,” Agni murmured. “Over a century ago in our realm. Daemons, or at least those who were in the mortal realm during the conclusion of the _war_ , are now stuck here without purpose. Without a home. They sometimes run amok when it is possible for them, but are too afraid of the possibility of confronting a god. They are timid, weak. Trapped in the mortal realm.”

From Agni’s description, it sounded as if the doors to the Syphon and daemon realm had closed shut during the conclusion of the war. Micah wondered how many daemons, how many god eaters, were lingering in the mortal realm at the time.  

“You make it sound as if gods can destroy daemons.”

“You are correct, child. Daemons, unlike Syphons, are rather simple entities. Soldiers of something greater.”

Micah regarded Haken’s turned face carefully. “What led to the war?”

Haken’s lips parted in explanation, but then closed a moment later. He sat quietly for a moment, his eyes veiled by the moon’s bright reflection off his glasses. “Power. Greed. Two separate entities that represent two separate beliefs and purposes will always clash. They will always hope to surpass the other party.” He turned to Micah and smiled softly. “Unison could not be reached. Those in charge never succeeded in making a peaceful coexistence. In the end, good triumphed over evil.”

Something bitter twisted the man’s lips and he watched Micah intently, as if waiting for something, waiting patiently as he always did to observe how Micah would proceed with the given information.

“Doesn’t there have to be a balance?” Micah inquired. “Both good and evil?”

If possible, Agni’s stare turned even more intense as he obsessively searched Micah. With such a penetrating expression, Micah wondered if he said something wrong. “Why would you assume that, child? Shouldn’t good always triumph over evil?” Something lingered in Agni’s tone. A ghost of cynicism and a hint of dark, jaded emptiness.

Feeling as if he’d stepped into something far bigger than his mere, mortal existence, Micah stiffened and turned away.

“Forget it. It’s nothing.”

“I’d like to hear it.” Agni’s tone was forceful.

Micah grimaced, flattening his palms against his thighs and realizing they were clammy. “Minds will always overanalyze and search for the evil. There will _always_ be good and evil, Agni. You say the gods conquered evil, that the good won, but divide what is remaining of the _good_ into two, distinct groups; good gods, evil gods. When I look at you—at your _godly_ companions—I don’t see good,” he whispered. “I see corruption and I see the extortion of power.”

“You see evil.”

“I see…” Micah trailed off, shaking his head. “Damnation.”

Agni was quiet for quite some time. “I realize that your experiences with gods so far have been nothing but appalling. I understand now why you were—are—so vehemently against becoming one of those entities that you despise so much. Nonetheless, I truly do consider immortality a gift and I found myself uncertain how to proceed with your denial. At the time, it truly felt like an insult to me.”

Micah considered the dark scenery, admiring how the trees stood as clear, crisp silhouettes against the night sky. He hadn’t realized that his actions could hurt Agni, and that Agni, in turn, had tried to hurt Micah by claiming he’d find another. To level the playing field. There was something oddly disbelieving that he could hurt the god with _words_.

No matter. Micah had come to a chilling realization.

Something he could no longer avoid.

“Insulting you wasn’t my intention,” Micah said, keeping his gaze averted. “But our disagreement doesn’t really matter. It’s too late, isn’t it?” he wondered quietly. “Whatever the process is to become a god has already begun since conception, hasn’t it? You just wanted me to be comfortable with the knowledge of what was to come instead of dragging me there unwillingly.”

“There is always a choice, Micah.” Agni stood up. “You are in a very delicate and vulnerable state that can be destroyed if done properly. If you are so fervently against becoming immortal than I can…” the man trailed off. “You are destined for great things. When it is time to discover that destiny, I hope that you will come to embrace it rather than hide from it.”

The man departed, positioning himself further down the boxcar, away from Micah, away from the team. Micah gazed unhappily at the landscape. A strange sense of deep, hollow emptiness settled into his chest.

His destiny, he mused.

It felt more like an impending doom.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brokkolily has created a companion piece to her Ezra! You will have to check out her spectacular interpretation of Lord Josiah *wiggles eyebrows* You can see it [HERE](https://epic-solemnity.livejournal.com/) or [HERE](https://photos.app.goo.gl/KKS6DuvSDfr4EtiH6) Thank you so very much for all the art work, everyone ♥ ♥


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know what it was… but this chapter was a struggle for me on levels that shouldn’t even exist for a ‘filler chapter’.

**23\. Chapter Twenty-Three**

 

“ _Micah_!”

Jerking violently awake, Micah pulled down his hood and frantically searched his surroundings. His chest heaved frantically to accommodate his racing pulse, certainly not accustomed to jarring awake so abruptly, especially when his mind dipped down into a deep, heavy sleep. Across from him, Viktor danced on one foot, then the other, before cupping his manhood.

“Where do we _pee_?”

Behind him, Talia shook her head, exasperated.

Micah, with his hand still on his hood, stared incomprehensively at Viktor. “ _What?_ ” he exclaimed sharply. “What are you _doing_?”

“I need to pee,” he repeated. “I don’t know where we should go. Is there a designated area or…?”

Groggy and still fighting the faint clutch of sleepiness, Micah looked at his team. They were in various states of awareness, some appearing just as jarred as he felt, others wide-awake and irritated over Viktor’s antics. Agni especially. “What?” Micah asked again stupidly.

The boy slouched petulantly. “Pee. I have to pee.”

“Go!” Micah demanded, his tongue slurring with sleep. “Why do you need my permission, Viktor?”

“I don’t know where to go!”

“Anywhere!”

“I—”

“I don’t care,” Micah interrupted sharply. “Just go. Anywhere. I do not. Care.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to center both himself and his rising temper. “Just… go.”

Rolling his head back against the boxcar, Micah stared above at the open hatch. Daylight poured inside the compartment, shedding light on their miserable surroundings. Only, his attention narrowed on the dust floating whimsically in the air, showering the boxcar with extraordinary flecks of glitter. He supposed, even in grim, miserable conditions, there was always beauty nearby.

If only one looked hard enough.  

Viktor stared at him suspiciously. “You might need to drink more water, Micah. If you hadn’t had to go yet, that leads me to suspect you may be dehydrated. The same goes for all of you.”

_Viktor._

Micah lifted himself from the floor and prowled across the boxcar towards the bane of their existence. The young man appeared hesitant at Micah’s vulturine approach and hastily stepped backward. He didn’t get far, for Micah cupped his shoulder, holding him in place. Tension lined Viktor’s face as he gazed up at him.

“I appreciate your concern over my urinary health, Viktor, but it is extremely unwarranted and unappreciated.” Micah patted him on the shoulder, perhaps a bit too roughly, before turning and gathering his holster.

“Wait—where are you going?” Viktor cried.

“He’s probably going to do what you can’t do,” Aiden muttered.

“Let me come with then.”

Aiden laughed. “Perhaps Micah can also hold your dick for you.”

“That’s crude, Aiden,” Talia admonished.

“Well, it’s true. We don’t hear you complain nearly as much and you have a larger problem than Viktor’s aim and release.”

Micah sighed softly as he removed his cloak and fastened his holster over his stiff jacket. Once he finished, he turned in time to see Haken disappear through the top hatch of the boxcar, his departure as silent as ever. The real Haken would never exert that much grace and stealth.

“I don’t trust him,” Viktor murmured quietly to Micah as he peered up into the hatch door. His blue eyes squinted thoughtfully. “There is just something about him that I can’t put my finger on. Something familiar, but… different.”  

“He’s a traditional Healer who was assigned my personal health, Viktor. I’ve gotten to know him well during my stay at the palace,” Micah replied easily.

“You haven’t been at the palace for very long,” Aiden, of course, spoke out against Micah’s claim with his irritating notion of common sense. “You were basically abducted from the academy and then forced to go on your political tours. Did he accompany you to the other kingdoms?”

“Well, he _is_ my Healer, Aiden, I imagine he would be assigned where I am at all times,” he said neutrally, throwing on his cloak and approaching the makeshift staircase. “I trust him and you should too. We need all the help we can get to save Kai. Considering he knows how to wield his fire Element, I consider that a significant advantage.”

Aiden closed his mouth with a glower. If there was one thing that got under Aiden’s skin, it was the mention of fire Elementals. The jealousy burned the boy so badly that he typically turned silent for several minutes thereafter, perhaps mulling over the unfairness of Agni blessing others and not him.

“I am going to find food and water,” Micah informed his team, climbing the crates with a shifting Viktor at his heels.

As they breached the opening to above, Micah immediately noted the warmth and heaviness entwined in the wind. It wouldn’t take long for the weather to turn. He supposed, come mid-afternoon, the influence from the south would be upon them.

“Aim with the wind, Viktor.” He levelled the boy with an expectant look.

In turn, Viktor sighed and shuffled uncomfortably, gazing at their passing surroundings with a far too solemn expression. “I wanted to talk to you alone, Micah,” he admitted.

Micah raised his eyebrows, analyzing the boy next to him. “Quite the ruse to draw me aside.” He paused. “Yet entirely believable.”

Viktor slipped his hands into his uniform pockets, striking a casual and petulant pose. His short, wild hair flew eccentrically around his head, not quite long enough to get into his face and obscure his despondent blue eyes. His expression, which normally creased with good humor and mischief, was oddly deadpan. “It’s easy to play my role on this team,” he murmured quietly. “No one else comes close to lightening the mood. Most the time they don’t take me seriously.”

“Nonsense. Of course we do.”

“ _They_ don’t,” Viktor emphasized firmly. “I know you do, Micah.”

Micah shook his head. He hadn’t anticipated Viktor’s need for reassurance, but he assumed it was due time. Yet again, Keegan’s warning came back to him with resounding clarity. His old friend said the team needed more reassurance from him, especially when they strived so hard to gain his attention. Those words continued to haunt him to this day. In turn, he tried to honor Keegan’s proclamation by doing something about it.

“We all take you seriously. Your good sense of humor is exasperating at times, yes, but it’s desperately needed.” Micah pressed on despite Viktor’s frown. “You can handle yourself well. You protect the team fiercely. In battle, you are levelheaded and quick. They, just as I, recognize this.”

“I don’t need that kind of encouragement, Micah. I understand my place on the team and can accept what needs to be done.”  

Micah’s smirk dropped as he considered Viktor’s plummeting mood. “Then what do you need, Viktor?”

“Nothing is the same,” the boy lamented. “I want it back to where it was before.” He kept his eyes averted, almost as if he were ashamed. “I know if we get Kai back… _when_ we get him back… he won’t be the same without you. When he makes up his mind, nothing can sway him. He’ll want to follow you to the palace.”

“He won’t follow me to the palace unless I specifically want him to follow.”

“If you deny him what he wants, then his mind wouldn’t be with us. Not really.” Viktor shrugged. “ _You_ won’t be with us. I thought a lot about this, Micah. I think… I _know_ I want to pledge my loyalty to you.”

“Viktor.” Micah reached over to place his hand on Viktor’s head.

Surprisingly, the Unda man ducked away to avoid Micah’s contact, frustration twisting his features. “My family denounced all ties with you because Seaton threatened them financially!” he blurted out. “For nobility standards, I have a big family. My parents already struggle as it is to give each child equal standing.”

“I know that, and I understand,” Micah soothed, shifting his tactics. “Not matter what Aiden says, I do not fault you or your family for that decision. If I were in their position with children to look after, I would have done the same thing.”

“But it shouldn’t be that way. Coercion to enlist loyalty? They wouldn’t listen to me.”

“It is just as much my fault than it is any other,” Micah admitted. “I’ve only had time to interact with Cain’s parents.”

“Is there really going to be a war? Between you, King Calder, and Lord Josiah?”

Micah shook his head. “Others tend to believe so. I am not too sure.” He paused, thinking of the web and speculating just how much things would change. The nobles. Calder. Even the Igni nobles. “I think there will be a shift in the capital sooner rather than later. Things that were not so clear will become clearer. My father and I need to speak in detail regarding the capital.”

Viktor mulled over Micah’s words before nodding resolutely. “I think Cain is right,” he said. “There are more people supporting you than we think. I don’t fault my family for making their decision, but that doesn’t mean I have to follow suit. I want to withdraw from the academy and join you and Kai at the palace.”  

Micah smothered his smile just in case Viktor would see it as an insult. “The academy may be your best place to find neutrality.”

“I don’t want to be neutral, Micah.” Viktor finally locked eyes with him. “I want to be a part of this. I want to be a part of the team again. I know Talia feels the same. Just as Cain. They may not be ready to approach you about it themselves, but I am.”

“You would be putting your family at risk by publically supporting me.”

“No, I—”

“Seaton and Muriel approached your family and received their word that they would align themselves with Calder and the other nobles. I imagine that assurance of loyalty from your family also includes _you_.”

Viktor’s features twisted once again.

Taking pity on him, Micah placed a hand on his shoulder. “Take time and think about it. Talk to your parents—”

“Can you talk to them?” Viktor suddenly requested. “You said you spoke to Cordelia and Trent Abital. Cordelia is a powerful woman in court. If you could sway _her,_ I imagine my family would follow just as easily if you’d talk with them.”

Micah removed his hand from Viktor’s shoulder, warily amused at the hopeful eyes. “I had already planned on speaking to them. It’s just been busy as of late with Kai’s situation and appeasing my father with the political tours. While not ideal, I had to push aside the meeting with your parents, but it is on my list of things to do when we get back to the capital.”

There were _so_ many things to do…

Relief caused Viktor’s shoulders to sag exaggeratedly. He placed a hand to his forehead and grinned widely. “You really have no idea, Micah…” he trailed off with a delirious little laugh. “It would make things easier.”

Observing the relief, Micah inclined his head. “I meant what I said last night. We need to get Kai back first, and then we can proceed from there regarding politics. We will figure things out, Viktor. I won’t leave you or the others in the dark.”

“I understand. I won’t bother Aiden about _his_ allegiances as much.” Viktor dropped his hand from his face and offered Micah a brilliant smile full of teeth. “Thank you.”

Micah turned away before Viktor had the audacity to embrace him. “Take your piss.”

After jumping onto a neighboring boxcar, he prowled across the top, noticing the open hatches on nearly every shipping container. Either the capital left them open on purpose, to keep air moving through the goods, or someone already went through those specific boxcars in their quest to look for food. Considering the far cars, his gaze then lowered to the boxcar he currently occupied.

He felt the presence. His _… other half._

Without hesitating, he dropped down, landing in a crouch behind Haken. The possessed boy—the entity—did not even pause in his quest of opening a crate with a crowbar. All it took was one, downward tug for all the nails to pop from their positions. Micah had opened crates before, and he’d seen grown, burly men do it as well.

None of them, even the burliest, could possibly open a box with one pull.

It made Micah curious how much strength Agni was capable of channeling through his vessel. Likewise, he considered the knowledge Agni, or any other god, could harness upon possession. Depending on Agni’s vessel, he absorbed a plethora of memories and information. His knowledge must be _vast._ Josiah with his Noir Magic capabilities. Haken with his healing techniques. And those were the only two vessels Micah knew about.

“This bond you share with this mortal is…” Agni trailed off as he peered inside the crate. “Revoltingly intimate.”

Micah slowly stood from his crouch and grinned smugly at the man’s back. Was it juvenile to derive pleasure from Agni’s jealousy? Certainly. Did he feel any qualms for this juvenile trait? Most definitely not. To think one of the most powerful gods would be jealous of a mere mortal was absurd. Agni would deny it, of course, he _had_ to deny it, but Micah knew better. Agni believed Micah _his_ possession.

Micah approached the waif-like Healer, trying to stifle his cheek-aching grin.

Over the man’s shoulder, Micah peered into the box, identifying textiles.

“I could kill him instantly,” Agni boasted with an eerie calm. “What right does he have to stake a claim like this with you?”

“He has every right,” Micah countered. “He is my Chosen.” He walked around the crate, maintaining eye contact with the shadowy figure, nearly going weak-kneed when he noticed the malevolent light in Haken’s eyes. His hair stood on end. His excitement grew. “And you wouldn’t kill him. That would mean you’d admit he’s a threat.”

“She did this intentionally,” Agni stated quietly, watching Micah predatorily. “To spite me.”

“Who is _she_?”

Agni continued staring at Micah, as if he wanted to absorb every way his bond with Haken functioned. Micah was fortunate Agni did not possess Haken regularly. Undoubtedly, Agni would take advantage of the bond and exploit it to his advantage. 

When Agni did not answer, Micah pursed his lips, considering the motionless entity.

If he wouldn’t get answers, he might as well play.

“Does it bother you?” Micah inquired innocently. “That I don’t see _you,_ but only Haken? Only Josiah? Intimately, if we were ever to get that friendly…” Micah trailed off skeptically, watching the man’s reaction. Even if Agni possessed Josiah, Micah would never sleep with his uncle. Yet, he still wanted to goad the god. “I’d only see Josiah during our intimacy. Not you.”

Nothing changed on the man’s expression. A certain stillness, however, indicated that Micah’s comment had its intended purpose.

Agni did not appreciate the slight.

“Don’t you worry,” Agni replied. “There are ways around that. I can take on a form that would not harm you.”

“Oh?” Micah nearly recoiled with surprise, his mind racing wildly with possibilities. He tried to ignore the way his pulse accelerated from excitement, but considering the grin across Haken’s face, the man undoubtedly felt it through the bond. “I saw your true form yesterday. I never imagined you’d have blond hair and only two arms.”

Agni exhaled in a hiss, his eyes squinting with frustrated amusement. “It is not blond.”

“Golden blond, then.”

“Is there a point to this, my child?”

“No,” Micah said smugly, amused over the inanity of the current topic. “Just that I now know you can materialize into your true form when you walk in our realm. Become tangible.”

“Not for long and certainly not in the presence of mortals.”

“Mortals without a rune protecting them.”

“How well did that work for you?” Agni countered, smirking.

Remembering falling to his knees, overcome by the god’s presence, Micah grimaced. “You said there were ways…”

“I did,” Agni consented. “In the mortal realm, gods and goddesses are essentially trespassing into an environment that cannot properly register nor support their power. We don’t belong in this realm for great lengths. It takes even _more_ strength and concentration to stifle our auras while turning tangible. Not many have the ability. It leaves us weak. Drained for long after, especially if we dwell in the mortal realm. Most gods, if able to do so, hesitate to take such a risk of vulnerability, but for you, child, it is something I would gladly do.”

Micah contemplated this, recognizing the pride in Agni’s tone and the undercurrent of promise of future interactions. Being intimate with Agni… the thought was always there. Maybe not a tangible idea, only because he always assumed it was impossible, but it was always a temptation and a dark whisper of allure. To be intimate with the fire god in his true form…

“Has any other mortal seen you in their true form?”

“And lived to tell the tale?” Agni inquired wickedly. “No, there have been no mortals.” Agni shuffled through the crate, elbows deep in textiles as he searched the bottom. “It is a rather intimate decision for gods to reveal themselves. Some gods and goddesses have become enamored with mortals and foolishly believed they could initiate a coupling with said mortal in their own skin.”

Micah’s eyebrow twitched when he recognized the humor in Agni’s tone. “Oh? Foolishly? Do they produce demigods?”

Agni stopped rummaging through the items and looked up at Micah. “Becoming tangible, all the while stifling their auras during sexual gratification is a difficult task to perform. They lose control halfway through and their partner’s head explodes in a shower of gore.” Great humor lined Haken’s face. “The mortal is unable to handle the aura of a god.”

In turn, Micah scowled. “So you could essentially lose control… with me.”

“I could. I lack the experience in this particular situation, but I have no doubt you would be just fine if exposed to my power. You have the rune. You have the capability.” Agni’s mirth died in face of Micah’s unimpressed expression. “You brought up the subject of demigods. Gods cannot produce children with mortal women. The child would kill both itself and the mother before she reaches full term. Goddesses, on the other hand, could give birth to a child who was sired by a mortal male.”

“Are there many of them?”

“I do not concern myself with the theatrics of offspring and sexual partners of the other gods,” Agni sounded derisive, reminding Micah that the other gods considered him elusive. Something of a recluse. Nonetheless, he attempted to answer Micah’s inquiry. “I am sure there have been several. For the most part, demigods live as mortals and never come to know their godly heritage. Gifted with exceptional skills, strength, intelligence, but just known as a very capable and impressive mortal.”

“What of my mother?” Miah pressed. “You indicated, albeit loosely, that the process to turn _me_ into a god began at conception.”

“Before conception,” Agni corrected. “Your mother was not carrying a demigod.” Something dark, faraway shifted in Haken’s eyes. His lips pressed together. “You have… a very unique internal composition, Ezra. Not mortal. Not deity. Not yet.”

“That doesn’t sound particularly informative,” Micah drawled. “If I was meant to be a god, why wasn’t I just born in your realm?”

An eyebrow twitched and Haken’s features turned to stone. “Gods are created—born—as their adult selves. There are no newborn deities like their mortal counterparts. It was essential you were born as mortal.”

“Essential,” Micah repeated quietly. “Was it essential for other gods to be mortals first? Is this… a common occurrence?”

 “No.”

“And did you…” Micah trailed off, catching and holding Haken’s eyes. But they weren’t really Haken’s eyes, were they? Micah could all but feel the weight of Agni’s true stare through the eyes of another. “Were you solely responsible for my creation? Others believe I’m the spawn of evil, but you’re protecting me. Someone wouldn’t go through all that trouble if they weren’t invested from the very beginning.”

Agni moved away from the crate and glided nearer to Micah without making a sound. As he closed in, he stooped low in order to put their faces on equal level. A sly, taunting smirk played the edges of his mouth. “Ask me,” the man murmured hypnotically. “Ask me what you really want to know. You’re coyly skirting around and inquiring after things that really lead to nowhere.” 

“You wouldn’t tell me even if I asked.”

Agni never batted an eye. “Because you really don’t want to know, do you?”

Micah broke the intensity of eye contact by pushing past Agni. He approached the abandoned crowbar, deliberating if he or Agni would call the other’s bluff. Did Micah really want to know the purpose behind his existence? Or was Agni deceiving Micah, making him doubt he even wanted to know, just to avoid telling the truth?

There was an easy way to find out. Micah could just ask. He could call Agni’s bluff—the man probably wouldn’t tell him anything. He was willing to bet Micah would not even ask.

Bending down, Micah grabbed the crowbar, studying it through jaded eyes.

Conversely, there was a possibility Agni would tell him. Micah just began to feel comfortable admitting to the existence of gods. He was still swallowing the fact that the fire god had played such a large, intimate part of his childhood upbringing. Since then, he’d had to shoulder the mistreatment from the other gods. He’d had to face the possibility he may become immortal. He’d had to discover the existence of another entity, the Syphon. He’d had to stumble upon truths and revelations that set him on edge. Made him feel small.

Did he want to know more? Something that would undoubtedly shake him to his core?

He could handle it. Whatever it was, he could shoulder it just as well as he’d shouldered everything else. Nevertheless, that didn’t mean he wanted to know at this very moment.

Agni could win this round.

He lowered his arm abruptly, embedding the forked crowbar into a wood crate. “What is Haken going to remember about this?”

He could _feel_ Agni gloat as he changed the topic. Rather poorly too. Fortunately, the man did not voice his victory. “He will remember what I want him to remember. Vague recollections of accompanying you and your team on this mission should suffice.” The man paused, no doubt studying the hard expression across Micah’s face. “Do not concern yourself with him. You have larger things to worry about.”

Micah looked up from the splintered wood. “Like?”

Agni lifted his arms and motioned to their surroundings. “No food, child. None.”

Micah’s blood ran cold. He’d known there was a possibility, he’d just hoped he’d been wrong. “In this boxcar? Or the whole train?” He began to search his surroundings carefully, walking from open crate to open crate. All he saw were useless goods that were far from edible. “There has to be some sort of food. Anything. Rations. Water.”

“I ventured out earlier this morning as well. There are empty boxcars. It’s a sparse load. Nothing but textiles, booze, and some medical supplies.” Agni did not sound too overtly concerned. “It’s one of Calder’s far-reaching attempts.”   

He whirled around with confusion. “Calder?”

Agni held up a piece of fabric. “Look closely. These are not mere pieces of cheap fabric used for _bedding._ ”

Grateful to focus on something other than godly conflicts, Micah advanced, grabbing the piece of fabric from Agni’s grip and scrutinizing it closer. The man was right. Upon first glance, it appeared like most typical fabric. Only, the piece of fabric in his hands was satin, a capital delicacy.

Micah observed the boxes in a new light. “He’s trying to tunnel money into the region without it being obvious.” He looked closely at Haken’s impassive features. “Do they not realize this? I’ve never heard about such goods being delivered from the capital. Region 20 could get a substantial amount of gold if they bartered these supplies to the regions and villages closer to the capital. This shipment alone could finance them for several months.”

“Aid from the crown is still aid from the crown.”

Micah threw the sheet into the box, further upset by Agni’s revelation. “They spit on this? They need to work to turn this into gold. This isn’t just a handout. The idea is ingenious. It plays on their stubborn pride and makes them work for what they need.”

There were several people in charge of loading the shipments from the train. He wondered who was responsible for distributing the goods in this particular region. Perhaps Micah needed to suggest tighter control on the shipment overseers. Corruption was so large in Region 20. It would not surprise him to learn the foremen at the train depot depleted the supplies and revealed little to the general public, all the while, taking it for themselves. Resentment would grow among the public for the lack of supplies. The hate for royalty would reach a pinnacle.

For all the years Micah lived in Region 20, he never heard of _satin fabric_ sent to their village.

“Your people are stubborn fools,” Micah murmured, turning his shoulder on Agni.

“That they are,” Agni replied softly. “Yet, no matter how foolish some are, the vast majority are still in need of help.”

Micah stopped short upon that admission. Something ominous nipped at the back of his neck. Agni should have taken care of things after the capital’s unification twenty years prior. Yet, things remained relatively the same. Granted, Calder wasn’t as inactive as Micah had earlier feared, however, Agni, the fire god, could have approached his people and convinced them to accept help.

No.

Agni made it sound as if it were Micah’s job. Micah’s duty.

He glowered at his surroundings, anger and uncertainty prickling beneath his skin like painful and irritating pinpricks. He sprinted toward the opening hatch of the boxcar. Jumping on a crate full of fabric, he then leaped toward the ceiling, grabbing the edge of the door. Pulling himself up and over the lid, he left Agni behind.

As he landed on top the boxcar, he noticed his shoulder no longer seared with pain, but was rather a minor ache. Healed. Normal. Something that shouldn’t have happened for several more days. Agni must have healed him with Noir Magic when he was sleeping, or perhaps he’d done so when he reset his shoulder.  

Refusing to acknowledge his gratitude, Micah stood.

He had a lot to accomplish this morning.

 

*** * * ***

 

 

There had to be two, maybe three crewmembers.

They all needed food, did they not?

Micah remained crouched and coiled on top a boxcar, steadily watching the crew car with the visage of a predator. His stomach groaned weakly, reminding him of his own hunger. Unlike the others, Micah was certain he could last the next couple of days without food. The team, however, with the exception of Aiden, probably never went a day without food. They’d grow weak and succumb to their hunger. Micah needed them at their full strength.

Otherwise, bringing them on this venture was meaningless. Yes, he got them away from Muriel and Seaton’s reach. From the chaos of the capital. But he needed numbers and he needed strength. He didn’t know what waited for them in Region 20.

_With the exception of a Syphon…_

Micah had searched the train deliriously, throwing boxes over and scavenging through the materials. A part of him hoped there was food beneath layers of textiles. Even just a morsel. _Something._

Agni had been right. Not a single crumb.

Reaching behind his shoulder, his fingers groped his holstered sword. What was about to occur was a direct result of his error. He should have had the foresight to plan ahead. Now he had to face those consequences with a hardened resolve.

Standing from his crouch, Micah leapt on top the cab, his boots slapping the metal with an intentionally loud _clang._ He then crouched back down, straining his ears and listening. Over the engine, it was difficult discerning the voices, but he managed to catch a string of curse words.

The conductor would most likely stay inside. Most the crew, probably no more than three, would come out to investigate. There only needed to be one person conducting a supply run to the outskirt regions, and that was the conductor. Everyone else was taking up too much space and consuming too much food—food that Micah and his team needed.

After several minutes, in which Micah remained a motionless statue, two men clambered out onto the railing. He waited, his body lowered to the ground, his breathing even and slow. He counted the steps it took for them to climb the railing, their haste making their movements sloppy and ungraceful. _Loud._ As they cleared the top, they came to a stuttered stop, approaching him slowly with an abundance of anticipation.

“Will you look at this?” the burlier man rumbled.

Remaining in his crouch, Micah watched the two men circle him. With a critical eye, he analyzed them. Both had swords in hand, both rugged in appearance, and both possessing wicked eyes. Their skin was dirty, their hair greasy. They were bottom of the barrel of society.

Was that observation so wrong to conclude?

It did not justify what he was about to do, no. In the end, they were still human beings. Micah would kill for their food no matter what they looked like or how they smelt. It was a simple case of survival of the fittest and they stood in his way.

“Awful pretty,” the other observed with a drawl. His eyes drank in Micah with one, exaggerated sweep down his body. “Nice sword too.”

“Reckon he knows how to use it?”

“Looks too shiny.”

Micah stood from the ground with calculated slowness. As he straightened, he observed the two circling men. “You have something I need.”

One chuckled. “Coincidence. You have something we want.” He pointed his sword at Micah. His grip was too tight. Too awkward and clumsy. “Maybe we can propose a fair trade, eh? Something that leaves us both satisfied?”

“I’m afraid I don’t ever compromise with scum,” Micah informed, reaching back and withdrawing his sword quickly.

They flinched backward at the suddenness of his draw before laughing off their unease. “There is nothing on this train to steal.”

“On the contrary,” Micah murmured pleasantly. “I think you have what I need.” He gazed at the burliest man, meanwhile, keeping track of the one at his back. The skinny man believed he could surprise him with an attack from behind. Laughable. So very arrogant of them to underestimate their opponent with novice trickeries.  

“Why don’t we take you into the cab and we can see what we got—”

Micah sidestepped the attack from behind, immediately moving both his sword and arm to lock the opponent’s elbow in place. The man grunted in surprise, trying to yank his arm back, but to no success. Burly Man reacted in turn, slashing his sword with vicious and blind attacks. Turning with the arm still captive, Micah positioned the man behind him suddenly to the front, forcing the unwilling victim to take the brunt of the attack.

The sword cut across the man’s throat.

As the blood spilled on top the cab and at his feet, Micah threw the dying man over his shoulder and kicked him off the top of the cab. The man gurgled in surprise, but could do nothing to stop his descent off the train. He hit the ground hard and bounced into a limp roll.

With a scream of enragement, the burly man came for him again. Micah lazily blocked the strike before parrying and pivoting around the man. It was laughable really. He may be out of practice, but it was not enough to make this man an active threat. Without much sympathy, he brought down his sword and stabbed the crewmember in the kidney.

A spray of blood hit him across his face and Micah turned, trying to block the rest with his sleeve.

Unkindly, he kicked the man’s feet from underneath him before sending him off the side of the car as well. Through jaded eyes, Micah watched as the man’s body hit the ground hard, joining his partner in a bloody, forgotten heap.

When he could no longer see the two human lumps in the distance, Micah made his way to the ladder. His steps were slow, concise. His earlier desperation of getting his hands on food had since tempered into cool and collected bloodlust. He’d gotten this far. It was inevitable he’d go further just to gain possession of food for him and his team. It was a familiar feeling he never expected to feel again.

As his boots hit the walkway, he approached the entrance to the crew cab. An older man greeted him in the doorway, his face full of wrinkles and grime, his attention focused on the heavy gloves covering his hands.

“Was there anything to find up there or did—”

The man cut himself off as Micah’s sword pressed to his throat. Wide, amber eyes gazed up at him, and slowly, as if not to goad Micah, a pair of arms rose in the air with complete surrender. As they observed the other silently, Micah concluded that this was the conductor.

“You the prince?” he asked quietly.

Micah frowned and pressed the tip of his sword further against the man’s throat. “Just because I am biracial does not make me the prince.”

“They were looking for you. The guards. Before we took off, they searched the cars for you.” He shook his head. “I—I don’t want any trouble.”

“Neither do I,” Micah informed quietly, keeping his sword in position. “I need your food. Your shipment is lacking in that regard.”

The conductor shook his head again. “I—”

“Show me your food,” Micah interrupted.

The greying man nodded rapidly and turned, his shoulders as stiff as a board as he led Micah into the crew cab. They walked past the cramped and crude sleeping arrangements before entering the small eating area. Much to Micah’s displeasure, there was a young Igni man, around fifteen or so, stuffing his face there. Upon recognizing the situation, the boy stumbled from his seat and reached for his sword.

Micah sighed and kept his own blade nestled against the conductor’s neck. “Do not, or he dies.”

Did they really need to play this?

“Stand down,” the conductor ordered the kid. “He’s my son,” he spoke to Micah with a quick glance over his shoulder. “Please… spare him.”

“If he drops the sword, that won’t be an issue.”  

The boy looked at Micah and his father, his features scrunched up with distaste. Whatever passed between father and son, the boy gradually lowered his weapon and let it clatter uselessly on the floor.

“Good choice.”

Micah observed the rations and the water in the open pantry. There was nothing particularly fancy, mostly just what soldiers ate during the war. It would do. It had to do. It was better than anything they had. It was about survival now.

“ _Cur,_ ” the boy spat as Micah moved forward.

Micah hardly paused as the derogatory word floated whimsical over his head. “Perhaps a little originality next time, _boy,_ ” he murmured disinterestedly. “I’ve heard that insult one too many times before.” He holstered his sword and grabbed a burlap pack. “Let me assure you, this _cur_ , has the ability to draw his sword quickly should father and son not comply.”

“Take what you need,” the older man insisted gently.

Micah did not respond, but instead grabbed handfuls of packaged rations. He stuffed them into the sack, paying close attention to the two at his back. Fortunately, they stayed motionless long enough to speed the process along.

About to clear out the pantry, he paused, considering the food that remained and mentally calculating. While he was heartless at times, he would not intentionally make someone suffer, especially by starving them to death. Father and son would get by with what remained in the pantry. Shouldering the pack, he then grabbed two of the three water jugs in both hands.

“I think that will do for now,” he said. “Don’t follow me. Don’t do anything foolish. You have enough food and water to get you to Region 20 and back to the capital.” He stared into the kid’s hate-filled eyes and smiled unfriendly.

“Understood.” The old man remained submissive, perhaps recognizing the situation for what it was. “We will not pursue you.”

“Good.”

Giving one last lingering look to the Igni boy, Micah shouldered his way out of the small, confined pantry and back out to the railing. He climbed the ladder, his hands and arms weighed down by food and water. As he made it to the top, his attention lingered on the crimson splattered across the metal. He squinted, trying so hard to unearth feelings of regret, of shame.

Nothing.

It was done. He’d gotten what he needed.

Micah readjusted the pack and jumped along the boxcars. When he came upon the car occupied by his team, he jumped off the edge of the hatch and dropped to the ground below.

Hitting the floor with a heavy _thud,_ he looked up at his team. They stared at him, all standing and gaping by the open door. Their expressions, he noted, contorted into various shades of disbelief and apprehension. Micah glanced out the sliding boxcar door, easily identifying what would have garnered their attention outside and to the passing scenery. He realized they would have seen the men deposited like trash.

“Micah…” Talia started quietly. “Did you…?”

The exact moment when her attention landed on his face, to where the dried blood splattered across it, Micah stood from his position. Calmly, he dropped the sack of food, the rations spilling out and onto the floor.

“This is all we have,” he informed stiffly. “Ration it.”

They all stared at him in disbelief, as if he committed an unforgivable act. Yes, he realized with dawning comprehension, he _had_ committed an unforgivable act. Since when was killing humans a necessary and casual act? The team knew his outlook regarding killing in battle, they knew he expected them to follow his lead and take lives.

However, this wasn’t battle.

They wouldn’t understand.

His attention drifted over to Haken, who stood away from the others, his expression partially obscured by shadow. The man—no— _Agni_ gazed at him keenly, the smolder in his eyes shining through once more. There was a certain immorality to his eyes, a damnation Micah had recognized before, but hadn’t truly comprehended.

Josiah was right. Gods were malevolent beings. So very vindictive.   

Micah wouldn’t be surprised if there had been rations in this shipment. Agni could have woken up early and thrown it from the train. In the god’s mind, he anticipated Micah resorting to something like this just to keep his team alive. He’d consider this another act. Another trial.

Without another word, Micah climbed back up the crates and up through the hatch door. He had no patience to deal with any of them now. He needed time to reflect on his hardened mentality.

He needed to separate who he really was from Agni’s influence.

If that was even possible.

It would most likely prove too late.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Hopefully* there will be another chapter before next weekend, but we will see! If it gives me the same amount of trouble as this one, it may take a bit longer D:


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flashback in this chapter was much shorter, but I decided to expand it to reveal more of Micah’s childhood. Also--- for those of you who celebrate: Have a Happy Thanksgiving.

**24\. Chapter Twenty Four**

 

_Thirteen Years Ago_

 

Unimpressed eyes stared down at the young child. “Get lost, boy.”  

The small boy lifted his chin. “I said you need to give me my change,” he repeated. His pubescent voice hardened and attempted to deepen with authority. “I gave you a gold coin.” He gestured to the bag of large potatoes. “For two potatoes. I need nine silver pieces back from you.”

“And just how old are you? Do you even know the difference between gold and silver?” the vendor sneered. “Get lost!”

Around the quarreling young child and the potato vendor, men and women hustled through the streets. The dying sun cast deep, orange and red hues across the desert village. White and beige buildings, made entirely of clay and other desert materials, stood out from the darkening atmosphere. Most civilians of this outskirt village in Region 10 just wanted to get home to their families before dark. The nightlife was far from convivial and every bit unfriendly.

The warmth that the sun had provided earlier that day gradually disappeared. In its place, a crisp, bitter cold seemed to seep its way through the streets. A warning, perhaps, that what followed the fall of darkness was just as ominous as the cold.

The young boy tightened his cloak, shivering against the palpable anxiousness across the streets and his rising anger against the merchant. His mother had planned to gather ingredients for tonight’s dinner. She’d since fallen ill and Micah decided to steal a gold coin and venture out himself. He was so hungry. He hadn’t eaten all day. He’d seen her bartering with vendors enough to understand the simplicity of it. He knew his arithmetic. He knew to stand his ground.

He was just too young to be taken seriously.

“Give me my coins,” the eight-year-old repeated sternly. “Or else.”

“Or else what?” the merchant inquired, laughing boisterously. He reached underneath the table. “Next time, have the appropriate amount of coins. There is no change for gold.” With that, the vendor slammed his ‘closed’ sign on top the counter and turned his back on Micah. He then placed his fingers into his mouth and whistled shrilly, causing a nearby horse and cart to wheel its way over to him.

Micah watched, fuming with anger as the merchant began packing away his merchandise for the day.

“Has he scammed another customer?”

The voice spoke behind him, prompting Micah to turn. A gold coin appeared between the gloved fingers of a stranger, so close to Micah’s face, he nearly had to go cross-eyed. He gazed first at the man, distrust settling at the back of his mind. His mother always told him to be wary of people. Always. Everyone had their own agenda, their own interests.

Giving out money, as this man was doing, did not sit well with Micah.

Yet, there was something familiar about him. Something that Micah could not understand. He felt as if this man were important.

The Igni man smiled and crouched eye-level with Micah. “You look awful young to be on the streets so late.” He was the average Igni man. Dark hair. Light eyes. Sun kissed skin. “Where is…” the man trailed off. “Where are your parents, little one?”

“Just around the corner,” Micah replied firmly. “Both papa and mother.”

The man smiled at Micah’s show of bravado. “Here.” He offered the gold coin to Micah. “I know this particular vendor. He needs all the money he can get for his sick daughter. She requires constant attention from Healers or she will die.”

Micah frowned and glanced at the merchant who’d started loading the potatoes on the cart. “But it’s not right…”

Yellow eyes remained intent on his face. “No, it’s not right. He defrauds his customers. He overcharges and takes advantage of them. When you get older, you need to make sure you are not a victim of such circumstance.” The man looked down at the gold coin still nestled between his fingers. He wore rich fabric, his gloves clean and prestige. He appeared to be a powerful man. “But if you had someone you loved who was very, very sick, and required a lot of money that you didn’t have, wouldn’t you do the same as him? Wouldn’t you do whatever was in your power to help _her_?”

Micah thought of his mother and his anger plummeted.

He found himself nodding.

He hadn’t thought of it like that.

“It is very important to keep the ones under your protection safe, even if that means you have to commit a wrong. You would do anything for them, yes?” The man held up the coin. “Please take this.”

Micah looked shyly up at the coin. He then looked up at the man again, unable to look away from the eyes.

“But why would you help me?” he asked softly.

“Because I am more powerful than you,” the man said profoundly, emphasizing his words and enunciating with authority. “Because I have more money than you. Because I have the _ability_ and the _desire_ to help you. Because you are deserving and of need of my help.”

Micah’s eyes glazed over as the Igni man’s words ingrained deep into his mind. He licked his lips nervously, feeling shaken, but understanding the gravity of the situation. His mother told him not to trust others who attempted to give him things. Help did not come without a price, she said. Sometimes, that price was very high.

“What do you want in return?” Micah asked.

The man’s lips twitched. “Always stay very cautious, but lend help where it is due.”

His eyebrows creased with confusion, but he focused once more on the offered coin. With lightning quick reflexes, he plucked it from the man’s fingers and backpedaled swiftly, eyeing the stranger doubtfully. Only, the man remained crouched, watching Micah with a peculiar expression on his face.

Mumbling his thanks, Micah turned his heel and sprinted away.

He weaved through the adults, his black robe flying behind him in his haste. This particular village of Region 10 was a lot smaller than the one he and his mother had lived before, but it still had a large bazaar. There were quite a few buildings surrounding the marketplace, their structures fair at best, yet all uniform with their square windows and their pale, box-like contour.

Many people lived in this area, much more than the central village of Region 10. The streets were overcrowded, the homes sometimes cramped to the very last corner. His mother said it was because they were traveling further south where people were less wealthy.

Suddenly, someone knocked into his side, causing the air to escape from his lungs.

He stumbled, barely staying on his feet.

“Take better care of your stuff, _Micah!_ ”

Bracing his hands into the hard dirt, Micah looked up, watching as a familiar boy sprinted away. In his hand, he held Micah’s bag of potatoes. Immediately, he thought of the strange man’s words. The boy—Houri—could be hungry. He could be feeding his siblings. His _wrong_ could be for a good purpose. However, the strange man also said that Micah shouldn’t be a victim of such circumstance. His mother taught him that word. It meant weak. It meant bullied.

Micah was just as hungry. He had his own family to feed.

He grimaced and sprinted after the boy who attended the same class as he did.

Hunger made his limbs weak and tremble, but he pushed it away as Houri led him through the housing district. He twisted through the alleyways and zigzagged through the maze of buildings. He nearly grew dizzy. His surroundings all looked the same. He wasn’t very familiar with this village yet, and with the sudden cloak of night, he lost the boy.

He faltered to a stop, wheezing and trying to ease the burning in his lungs.

Cupping his knees, he stared in confusion at the strangely dressed women just across the street. Men were igniting the street lanterns now, allowing light to shed across the group of strange people. He huddled close to a building, pressing his cheek against the cool clay as he observed the peculiar sight in front of him.

He never saw girls like that.

His cheeks flushed with embarrassment as his attention went to their chests and their exposed ankles and arms. He frowned as he watched them all circle each other and walk around without going anywhere. They had a lot of stuff on their face. His mother never wore things like that or painted her face. The girls around the marketplace and school didn’t dress like that either.

He didn’t understand.

He would have to ask his mother.

Shivering against the cold, he watched as men approached the girls. Wide, naive eyes absorbed the scene with rapt attention. Some of the men surveyed the group of girls before approaching one and leading her away. There was another man, dressed very nicely, just standing against a neighboring building. Most of the men seemed to approach him first before handing him coins.

One of the girls suddenly lowered her tunic, showing a large tit to a passing man. Laughter amongst the girls pealed throughout the night, unaware of the severe blush across their young spectator’s face.

Micah turned away, feeling uncomfortable and confused. He slid down the cold exterior of the building until he hit the dirt. His stomach twisted and he felt nearly nauseated from his hunger. But before he could contemplate what to do for dinner, a scuffle sounded just down the alleyway. Turning, he sucked in a breath when he spied the form huddled at the end of the alleyway. 

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized it was a man slumped in the corner, his head lowered, his body nearly folded in on itself with palpable defeat. Small tremors caused his arms and torso to shake, bringing attention to his painfully frail and dirty limbs. Long, black hair, knotted in greasy gnarls, framed his gaunt and tired features.

If Micah inhaled, he could all but smell the odor from this man.

He hadn’t encountered too many homeless people. More so here than their earlier home. It seemed each day he would pass more and more of those men and women in the streets. His mother would pull his hand, forcing his attention elsewhere.

But now, he was vividly aware that he had more power than this man.

He had more money than this man.

He had the ability and the desire to help this man.

As the homeless man looked up at him, and then back down, Micah did not sense any threat from this man. Therefore, he innocently believed that this man was deserving of help.

Micah dug into his pocket and pulled out the gold coin. He considered it thoughtfully. He was so _hungry._ However, the marketplaces were closed now. It would appear as if he and his mother would go without food for the day. She would be very upset to know he’d snuck out without telling her, all the while, losing a gold coin. But they had more coins available.

He shuffled closer to the trembling man and extended the gold coin.

His hand remained aloft.

Gradually, when the homeless man made no effort to grab it, he lowered to the ground and placed the coin near the man’s hand. Hurriedly, Micah turned and began to escape the alleyway.

“Thank you, child.”

The eight-year-old paused as he heard the voice but quickly sprinted away, back to the direction he believed was home. Unknowns to him, the man in the alleyway disappeared in a wisp of smoke, the gold coin lay forgotten on the hard ground.

Micah would soon learn not everyone was deserving of his help. He’d learn that he’d help some, but then they’d betray him soon after. They would take advantage of his help and try to take more. He would learn to distinguish between those in true need and those who preyed on kind-hearted individuals. He would learn to wrap his empathy in a cold shield, distrustful of others seeing it, knowing it best to hide it well.

Nevertheless, that night, a warmth accompanied him all the way home, staying with him long into the night.

 

 

*** * * ***

 

_Present Day_

He went a full day without eating, without seeing the team.

They needed time away from him, just as he needed time for himself. It had been ages since his stomach felt this empty, yet a part of him delighted in the sensation. It was a familiar feeling, back during a time when he felt in control of his own life. However, Agni controlled him from the shadows even back then, didn’t he? Through his mother’s eyes. Through his mother’s reluctant actions.

Micah leaned against the open door, sweat beading his temples as he basked in the high, strong sun. They were in the midst of the outskirt regions. The familiarity was somewhat reassuring. He smirked and tipped his head back, enjoying the warmth as it seared his skin and set his whole body aflame with comfortable heat.  

He’d come to terms hours ago that he was powerless to his past. Agni had rooted himself into Micah’s life since conception _._ The entity was upfront about that. He’d even told Micah countless of times that he’d been with him since his origins. Micah had been powerless—too young— to stop the influence. As a result, Agni shaped and molded him at such a young age. 

Who he was today was what Agni desired.

Micah realized there was nothing he could do to reverse the influence. While he had weaknesses, weaknesses Agni most likely identified and carefully conceived to cure, Micah liked to think he was an overall strong individual.

He did not _dislike_ who he was, even as he looked from an outside perspective.

The ambiguity just bothered him. Not knowing where he started and where Agni stopped. What parts of him were himself and what parts did Agni embed? He could drive himself crazy analyzing it, yet Micah decided to come to peace with it instead. At least now, with their situation so dire, he needed his composure. Analyzing things until he grew mad would not help matters.

The sound of footsteps resonated on top the boxcar and Micah closed his eyes.

Not a set of footsteps, no, but a pair. One heavier and one lighter. Both bodies dropped down into the boxcar he occupied, their landing also emphasizing the difference in stature. Judging by their unique gait, both slow and confident, he identified them as Cain and Talia.

“You don’t need to hide here the whole way to Region 20, you know.”

Micah opened his eyes, gazing at the rations Talia held out to him. Poultry and gravy. The thought of food made his stomach ache, and he found himself accepting the offered food without complaint.

“I thought you needed time,” Micah responded levelly.

Glancing at Cain, who hovered behind Talia’s shoulder, Micah then refocused on his ration. He ripped open the top of the package, the smell of gravy and meat a delicious and welcome aroma.

“We did. We even said we wouldn’t eat the food. And then we got over it quickly after realizing how famished we were, how thirsty,” Talia explained, her tone candid and straightforward. “We’re not accustomed to this kind of life. Even at the academy, while they train us with portion control, we aren’t familiar with scavenging and fighting for food.”

“No one is blaming you for what you did,” Cain added. “We were—are— just a bit uncomfortable with it.”

Micah heard the words, absorbed them, but did not respond right away. He grabbed the small, bendable spoon inside the package and scooped up a generous amount of jelly-like gravy. Despite the off-putting appearance and the overall consistency of the wiggly mess, his tongue swelled and his saliva grew excessive as he ate the chicken gravy.

While he was fortunate the team came to an understanding regarding his actions, Micah had come to the same conclusion hours ago.

He’d do it again. He’d kill for food. Moreover, he’d do it without shame while looking in the eyes of his team. Were there other ways to achieve those food rations without killing? Possibly. He could have held the two crewmen captive. He could have threatened all four of them. He could have tried to steal the food and water without notice.

None of those possibilities were foolproof, however.

There hadn’t been enough food or water for everyone. What he grabbed for his team would barely get them by. They would have to ration it and make sure they paced themselves. Adding another two, grown men into the mix would have depleted the resources to a critical level. Killing them quickly saved them a slow, possibly agonizing death if he’d kicked them off the train. The less mouths to feed had also given his team more food and water. Moreover, it allowed the father and the son to get by comfortably.

No, it hadn’t been ideal, but it had been necessary.

It had been his own fault for putting his team in this mess. They wouldn’t have lasted very long without food and water. Their bodies were not conditioned the same way as his. Whatever waited for them in Region 20 required they be at full strength.

This was his burden to carry. A mistake marked down and remembered for later.

“I appreciate that,” Micah managed between bites.

“Viktor said you were going to talk with his parents, is that true?”

Talia was always straight to the point. He had to admire that particular trait of hers.

Micah stirred the gravy, observing the thick, mucus-like substance with little regard. “That’s true,” he confirmed. “I am certain Cordelia and Sachiel both excelled impressively during their talk with Viktor’s parents. However, I’d also like an opportunity.”

“Will you do the same for my parents?”

He looked up at her stony face. “Only if you want me to.”

If possible, her expression hardened further. “I don’t.”

His fingers abandoned their hold on the makeshift cutlery. Gazing into her unhappy eyes, Micah wondered what life was like growing up for Talia for her to turn out so bitter over the mere mention of her family. The bitterness extended to both her mother and father, something that surprised him. He would have thought Talia’s mother would hold a position of respect with her daughter.

“Then I won’t,” he vowed.

“Cain and I are dropping out of the academy. We want to know if you’ll find us a spot at the palace, close to you. Close to Kai.” Over her shoulder, Cain nodded once to show his support and complete agreeance. “Don’t try to convince us otherwise, Micah.”

His lips parted and he looked back down at his food. “Then I won’t,” he repeated again warily. “I will find a place for both of you.”

“And Kai.”

Micah paused, mulling over Kai. _Kai._ He exhaled through his nose, frustration and impatience causing his limbs to stiffen. “Assuming Kai wishes to be at the palace, near me, I will also find room for him as well. The palace isn’t exactly lacking in space.”

“Micah.”

Gazing up at Talia, he watched as her strong features softened. “He’s going to be fine.”

Micah grinned crookedly. “That should be my solace to you and the others.” He took another bite, wondering if his concern was truly that noticeable. “Not the other way around.”

Talia and Cain shared a look.

“With what happened with Keegan last term,” Cain started tentatively. “It’s only understandable you’d feel upset.”

“Upset is an appropriate term for it, Cain.” Micah shook his head. “What father would send his aristocratic son to the outskirt regions? Perhaps one that did not truly understand the depravity he’d find there.”

“Would they really kill him just for being an outsider?”

Micah tossed his packaged ration out the train, watching it flutter deliriously from the wind and the acceleration of the train. It didn’t know which direction to fall, outside influences too great to overcome. “There are worse things than murder.” Not to mention the Syphon. Whatever it was doing with Kai, Micah imagined it wasn’t anything good. “They would look at Kai and see a noble. They would not miss a chance to humiliate and dehumanize him.”

The Syphon wanted to consume both Agni and Dushyanta. Agni, in turn, wanted to eliminate it by putting it to sleep. At least Agni anticipated doing _something_ about the Syphon, unlike the other gods who shied away at the mere mention of a god eater. With Dushyanta also in the mix, Agni had quite the confrontation ahead of him.

They all did, Micah supposed.

“I want you and the others to train,” Micah instructed. “Work on your form. Work on your endurance. We have another full day ahead of us before we reach Region 20.”

“Are you going to join us?”

Micah looked out into the passing scenery. Greenery turned colorless, streams and lakes turned to sand. A gust of warm, hot air nearly left him breathless. It was heavy with unnerving promise and a whispered tease of possible tragedy.

“I have my own training to do.”

As Cain and Talia ventured back up the hatch, Micah allowed his mind to wander briefly before reigning it back under control. Clearing his mind, he meditated, sinking so far into the cold embrace of his Element, the sun could no longer reach him.  

He had to be ready. Not only to use his Element, but to be mentally prepared. He vividly recalled the moment Keegan died. The grief that had washed through him had been so great, he’d turned into a crippled mess of emotion. Micah couldn’t allow that to happen again, especially with the team under his protection. He had to be prepared to see Kai’s corpse. He had to wallow in his failure now. He had to drown in the loss.

His expression wavered and he took a shuddering breath.

He just needed to be ready.

*** * * ***

 

It was time.

Recognizing the school in the distance, Micah leapt from his feet and bounded across the top of the boxcars with renowned energy. With his boots tied tightly, his cloak fastened properly, and his sword holster in place, he dropped down the hatch door.

Upon his sudden entrance, the members of his team flinched.

His attention went first to Agni, surprised to find the entity in the boxcar. The man sat further down from the others, propped against the open door and eyeing Micah with intrigue. Micah then found himself distracted by Viktor and Cain. Both men were shirtless and wearing their cloaks around their heads like makeshift turbans. They flopped unimpressively against a pile of crates, their bodies sweating and dripping with excessive sweat.

“What are you doing?” Micah demanded.

“Aiden and Haken told us a proper way to handle the heat,” Viktor explained.

Micah looked to Agni. The man simply blinked back innocuously.

Aiden, on the other hand, chuckled to himself in the corner of the boxcar, stretched out in the shade like an impish cat.

Micah snaked over to the two men and ripped the cloaks from their heads. “You’re causing excessive heat around your head with this type of material, which makes your body warmer,” he barked loudly. “Drink water. Get dressed. We’re moving.”

Viktor and Cain moved sluggishly.

“Hurry,” Micah demanded sharply, throwing their cloaks at their feet. “That wasn’t a smart prank to pull,” he admonished Aiden. “They’re dehydrated now.”

“It was a bit of entertainment,” Aiden argued back mulishly. 

“Entertainment?” Micah repeated incredulously. Next to him, Viktor and Cain hurriedly pulled on their clothes, recognizing Micah’s ire. “This isn’t a leisure expedition. Your entertainment should have included training, per my instructions.” 

“You weren’t here!”

“We trained,” Talia consoled calmly. “Aiden didn’t, but Viktor, Cain, and I did.”

“Way to create divisions in the team, Talia,” Aiden criticized, standing from the corner. He advanced towards Micah. “The fact is that we shouldn’t have to work hard while you get to disappear somewhere and sulk.”

Viktor exhaled shrilly in offense.

Micah grinned coyly, responding to the boy’s comment before the others could come to his defense. “During our training sessions, Aiden, when you can last longer than a minute opposite of me, then you have a right to take a ‘sulking’ break just as well.”

Aiden’s cheeks reddened.

That was when Micah incurred the brunt of Aiden’s displeasure. The boy rounded on him, their boots toe to toe. “This whole mission is ill-conceived, Micah. Poor planning. Poor execution. You claim this wasn’t political and has nothing to do with allegiances, but just the fact that we disappeared from the academy with _you_ will speak volumes to others.”

“No one forced your hand, Aiden,” Micah countered calmly.

“You _did_.”

He observed the angry flush spreading across the boy’s nose and cheekbones. During this excursion, nothing but animosity bled from Aiden, making Micah suddenly realize that Viktor had been right all along. During their first night on the train, Viktor made an accusation regarding Aiden’s true allegiances. Accusations that were not supported, but undoubtedly true.

“Let me reassure you about something,” Micah started with false sympathy. “Lord Josiah will have no qualms about your support this mission. In fact, you’re so unknown to him that he wouldn’t even realize your absence from the academy.” 

Aiden blinked, startled, before glaring animatedly.  

“Is that what this is about?” Viktor’s voice sounded from over Micah’s shoulder. “You do realize that Lord Josiah and Micah are close. I’d imagine supporting one over the other is a double-edged blade and one needs to tread carefully. I wouldn’t be surprised that if you turned on Micah, you essentially turned on Lord Josiah.”

“I’m not turning on anyone!” Aiden denied heatedly. “I’m just saying that this mission is about more than just saving Kai.”

“It’s _only_ about saving Kai,” Micah said with deadly calm. “You are welcome to stay behind, Aiden. In fact, if you continue this way, please, stay behind.”

Aiden had the audacity to try to stare Micah into submission.

Micah gladly obliged in the challenge.

In the end, it was no surprise the dominant male succeeding in intimidating the other. Aiden turned away hastily, busying himself by grabbing his sword from the corner and holstering it around his shoulders and back.

“I’m going. For Kai.”

“For Kai,” Micah mimicked. He turned, catching the darkly amused eyes of Agni. “One essential rule with jumping off trains is to roll _with_ the fall. Don’t fight it.” His team, now all clothed and prepared, faced him expectantly. “We are coming up upon a bazaar in Region 20. The train will likely travel past and stop at the depot further down in the next village. We want to get off sooner unless we waste another day of travel. It is _imperative_ that we do not draw swords in this village.” He looked at them pointedly. “I will take lead. I need your word, no matter what happens, you do not act.”  

Was that emphasized enough?

They all looked at him hesitantly, as if they wanted to argue.

“Their loyalty to their people is great,” Micah continued. “They will not join an attack unless they feel threatened. If outsiders come into their region and intimidate them, they will band together and stop the threat. We don’t need the whole village after us.” He turned and looked at Agni. Specifically Agni. “Is that clear?” he asked.

The god of fire inclined his head. “Very.”

“I want Talia and Aiden to cover the rest of the team if such an event occurs. No swords. No action. It is vital you remain passive.”

Talia nodded sharply. Aiden appeared compliant despite his indifferent expression.

“Good.” Micah clapped his hands together. “Now that it’s settled, let’s go.”

Moving towards the open door, he ignored Agni’s hovering in favor of scoping out the opportune area to jump. The train had deaccelerated a bit since their departure from the capital, yet it still had a distance to travel before the next village and wasn’t going as slow as he’d preferred. The ground wasn’t soft either. At least they were low enough to the ground and the impact would be minimal.

He paused, considering if this was the best route. His impatience was undoubtedly ruling a good majority of his common sense, he acknowledged. He just didn’t want to waste any more _time._ The bazaar was right _there. His_ bazaar. _His_ old village. They were also going slow enough to minimize injury. If they waited until the train stopped, they would indubitably have another day of travel ahead of them.

“Jump forward…” He and Agni locked eyes. “Plan your roll over one shoulder and roll with it. Would you like to go first, Haken?”

Agni smiled thinly before leaping abruptly from the train and earning a startled gasp from Talia.

Why should Agni be concerned? It wasn’t his body.

Exasperated, Micah motioned the others forward, watching as Haken performed a tight roll and appearing relatively unharmed.

Naturally, his descent would be irritatingly perfect.

“You go first, Micah.”  It was Talia, appearing hesitant with the rest of them. He did not blame them. Jumping on moving trains was one thing, jumping _from_ moving trains involved an entirely different mind frame.

He tossed his sword out first before following immediately after. As he suspended in the air, there was a brief moment in which he delighted in such a liberating and reckless act. The high did not last long, however, as he hit the ground with such force, his breath knocked from his lungs and he lost all sense of logic.

He had to force himself to roll over his shoulder, though he did so sloppily. His limbs hit the ground and seemed to roll all over the place. He tried hard to adjust and control his body, yet the more he resisted, the harder the impact.

It seemed like he rolled for quite some time before he came to a stop. He heaved a deep intake of oxygen, staring up into the high, glaring sun. He’d have bruises. Hopefully the team would be just as fortunate and not have any fractured or broken bones.

“Not quite the tumble you instructed your team. _Roll with the fall. Don’t fight it._ ” Haken hovered above him with Micah’s sword in hand. “Perhaps you don’t like relinquishing control.”

“No one likes to relinquish control.”

A slow, sharp smile curled Haken’s lips. Something told Micah that if he were looking upon Agni’s true face, the smile would be far more unnerving that it already was.

“It is vital to recognize when surrender is necessary.” 

Ignoring the philosophical entity, Micah sat up, noticing Talia and Viktor had already jumped. Cain followed suit, becoming airborne with an anxious Aiden peering out after him. As Micah stood, he noticed Talia remained prone on the ground. His stomach dropped. He sprinted over, recognizing the soreness in his limbs and pushing away the discomfort.

Now was not the time to dwell over petty injuries.

“Talia?”

Crouching down next to her, he evaluated her, searching for any sign of injury. She looked at him, her eyes swelling with unshed tears. It was the first time he’d seen such vulnerability on her face. Seeing her so defenseless roused something fiercely protective within Micah. She was always careful to be on par with the men on her team. There were times he overlooked her gender. As it should be, he supposed, though now he felt resigned to treat her gently.

Almost as if she read his mind, her features scrunched up and she pushed her way past him as she clambered to her feet. Her cheeks were bright red, her eyes glazed. What emitted from her mouth was a string of colorful, crude curse words.

Micah stared up at her, startled.

Immediately, he noticed the way she held her left wrist.

Her non-dominant wrist.

“Impressive,” Viktor praised, watching Talia curse through the pain. “I haven’t heard half those words before. I think she gets it from her mother.”

“It’s fine.” Once recovered, Talia nodded sharply to Micah as a warrior would do their commander. “A minor fracture, I’m sure. Nothing that will prevent me from continuing and doing my best.” Here, her eyes sharpened, cleared. “ _Nothing_ will prevent me from going, Micah.”  

Micah shook his head, exasperated. “They say women have the highest pain tolerance,” he murmured quietly as he stood. “I would have to believe it. If only I could be just as graceful after a _minor fracture_.”

Viktor snickered. “With what came from her mouth, I wouldn’t exactly call it graceful.”

Happening to look up, Micah caught Cain’s approach with Aiden at his back. The larger man cupped his ribs, yet hurriedly dropped his hand once he noticed Micah’s scrutiny. His expression rearranged itself into a hard mask of determination and stubbornness. There was no chance Cain _or_ Talia would stay behind. Both cadets would never acknowledge an injury that would prevent them from accompanying the team. Not when it came to Kai. Even if Micah forced them to stay behind, they’d find a way to follow.

He knew that much.

Micah turned his shoulder on the team and inched closer to Haken.

“What are you to do, Captain Egan?” Agni taunted softly, his breath teasing the shell of Micah’s ear. “Quite a few injuries to your team already.”

“Can you heal them?”

Haken’s amber eyes flashed blood-orange momentarily, as if the god dwelling within the mortal were either amused by the question or insulted. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way.”

“You healed me,” Micah argued.

“ _You_ are different.” Agni glanced at the others as if they were simple livestock before gazing back at Micah. “Black magic does not heal unless there are proper… sentiments behind the action. Strong sentiments, to be precise.” He sighed sarcastically. “Pity your Chosen couldn’t have been a water Elemental. Then he’d actually be useful for healing purposes.”

As much as Micah wanted to dissect the man’s comment about the sentiments behind healing, and the implications behind it, his thoughts centered on his team. The sensible thing to do was keep them behind. He knew, however, that Talia and Cain were both obstinate, and they both cared for Kai a great deal. They would refuse to stay behind and wait.

“All that matters is that you’re ready to perform,” Micah murmured quietly.

In response to Micah’s private proclamation, Agni released a small, sly chuckle. “I’m always ready to perform in any capacity.”

Ignoring the sexual innuendo, Micah leaned back and accepted his sword from Agni. “Do you sense them? Dushyanta? The Syphon?”

“They are not beacons, child, but rather entities that wish to remain undetected until they do not.” Beneath his spectacles, Haken regarded Micah closely. “Do not be alarmed if I leave you. I cannot confront them in this body.”

Micah imagined the nearly tangible form from the capital. The golden-blond hair, the serpentine eyes, and the exceptionally handsome features. “You’d be susceptible to… consumption in your intangible form, wouldn’t you?”

“Yet, in the mortal realm, I am more powerful in that form. I may even leave this realm if I believe it necessary, though I don’t anticipate it coming to that.”

“Will the team be in danger with the proximity of two gods?”

“I think they are in danger of a great deal of things. A god willingly revealing himself, however, would most likely be the least of their concerns. Neither myself nor Dushyanta will actively try to reveal ourselves.”

“Are you two done whispering intimately with each other?” Viktor inquired loudly. “Personal Healer… unlikely.” He mumbled something crude to the others, who, in turn did not appear especially amused.

Micah turned. “Let’s go.”

Shouldering on his holster, he fastened it across his chest and led the way to the bazaar. He followed the railroad tracks at a distance, remembering the market was located quite some distance away from the train.

Walking in the harsh, desert terrain, with his team at his back, Micah contemplated his father’s request. According to Calder and his advisors, financial assistance to the outskirt regions always resulted in rebellion.

Calder assigned Micah the task of fixing the outskirt regions’ disposition. Gold meant nothing to them when they had no goods to procure with it. Gold meant nothing to them when it came directly from the capital. Food was what they needed foremost. They needed goods to start their own sufficient living. While they had shallots, tomatoes, and jerky, and perhaps a few merchants who travelled through the regions with fruits, like apples or pears, their access to other goods were rather limited and scarce.

Crime centered on food. Hunger was the primary cause of death.

What good would extra gold do if they did not understand that they could barter from other regions?

Micah pondered on the best way to reorganize the outskirt regions for quite some time. All the while, his team remained silent companions at his back, perhaps overcome with anticipation of seeing Kai again, perhaps recognizing the imminent danger.

He hoped, above all else, he wasn’t leading them into death’s embrace.

He’d never recover from his guilt.

Up ahead, the familiar bazaar took shape. The memories that accompanied the town left Micah feeling agitated.

It was just as how he remembered. Broken, dirty, busy, and carrying a stench of death and despair. The buildings surrounding the bazaar, and in the opposite direction of Micah and his team, stood so close to one another, they were barely wide enough to accommodate a large man’s shoulder span. Most the buildings were built with an array of brick, clay, and stone, some with dilapidated wood. The majority of the living quarters were below the hard, dusty ground of the desert terrain, a desperate attempt to escape the high sun during the day.

He knew the children sprinting and pickpocketing around the marketplace would have captured Kai’s immediate attention.

His immediate sympathy.

During their _excursion_ between terms, the young noble always watched the malnourished children with heavy solemnity. He’d always find a way to drop food near the children, hoping to feed their bellies, at least for the day. Unfortunately, the springy youths were always the first to appear dead on the streets.

Their approach did not go unnoticed. Gradually, the occupants at the market turned in their direction. Micah supposed it wasn’t every day that military members walked into the middle of Region 20. He could almost _sense_ the palpable air of dislike from the Igni natives upon seeing so many nobles. Their guards and defenses already appeared impenetrable. Guests from the capital were not welcome.

As Micah led the group past a crumbling brick façade, he considered the desert serpent painted on the building with meticulous care and detail. He’d seen it hundreds of times before, yet looking at it now carried with it a different impression.

Candles and other offerings piled underneath the red and orange serpent, as well as good wine, untouched gold pieces, and other lavish items. Despite the poverty in Region 20, no one ever stole from the offerings, always acknowledging and respecting the god watching over them. The brightly colored and venomous spirit animal represented the Igni fire god.

It was a clear, ominous warning to Unda outsiders.

This was Agni’s _territory_.

Looking into the split eyes of the serpent, Micah felt almost resentful. Even if he grew to despise Agni as a child, he had still considered the god fiercely powerful and majestic when he was younger. Old, wise, magnificent in his silence, and all knowing. Granted, while the god was some of those things—more really— Micah unearthed the cruel truth of it all.

There were other gods in existence and they all seemed juvenile and self-serving. They weren’t grandiose, but rather flamboyant.

Walking past the shrine, Micah slowed to a stop as they entered the thick of the bazaar. Gradually, as the residents became fully aware of their presence, they began circling Micah and his team like cautious and posed predators. Whispers and murmuring spread across the crowd as they marked Micah and the others as a possible threat. Most wore headscarves or shemagh, their eyes intense in their mistrust and revulsion.

As Micah stood his ground, motionless, sound and conversation faded.

Even the sound of children laughing silenced.

Micah pivoted, his boots grinding noisily in the hard sand as he assessed his surroundings. It was amusing, really. He wanted to save these antagonistic people. Yes, he accepted their hostility. Anticipated their hatred. He understood. He lived the hate, shared in their loathing for the capital. This was to be expected.

“Well… if it isn’t Micah Egan.”

“Almost didn’t recognize him with the stick up his ass.”

Viktor, who was always quick to defend Micah’s honor, growled lowly. Micah ignored him, trusting Aiden and Talia to keep their word. No swords. No threat. He knew if he came back to Region 20, they would consider him an outsider.

They murmured amongst each other upon recognizing the name and clumped closer together, watching him shrewdly. He gazed at their eyes, admiring the wide range of yellows and ambers. It felt good to be home, no matter how hostile his welcome. Some watched him with less hostility and more curiosity. More anticipation. Others found his very presence an insult.

“Ladies and gentlemen, royalty is among us!” a man yelled derisively. “The Prince of Concordia and his noble cavalry. Fetch him some wine. Fetch him some splendor!”

Turning toward the boisterous male, Micah identified him as a boy who’d attended the same class as him and Keegan. Several years older, far dimmer, yet possessing a firm backbone and smart mouth that typically got him in trouble.

“Bren,” the name came to Micah easily. “A pleasure to see you again.”

“And he remembers the common folk,” Bren remarked spitefully, leaning against one of the makeshift vendor stands with a very cool air of nonchalance and importance. “Have you come to save us, Micah?”

Micah gazed around, observing the anticipation, the steady eye contact. “You don’t need saving,” he responded firmly. That caused a ripple across the crowd. “You’re the most resilient and capable people I know,” he continued, raising his voice amongst the chatter. “You don’t need saving. You need better access to goods. You need the capital to give you a chance to _succeed_ on your own. And I’m working on it.”

The stares grew less hostile as they considered him thoughtfully.

“You aren’t working too hard, are you?” Bren inquired spitefully.

“These things don’t happen overnight,” Micah retorted icily.

“He’s not even crowned yet!” a woman yelled in the midst of the crowd. She remained unseen, perhaps intentionally cloaking herself with numbers to hide her identity from the others. “Give him time. He was one of us. He knows what we need.”

Micah tried not to grin, yet it was impossible not to appear smug in the face of Bren’s resentment. The man’s expression was sour. Jealous. Looking into the bright, yellow eyes, Micah saw nothing but the desire to destroy.

“Then what do we owe the pleasure of your royal presence?”

“I’m looking for an outsider,” Micah started, appeasing to the ones who were listening with intentions to assist. They certainly appeared less hostile. “He would have been here several days ago, maybe weeks. He would have been alone. Weaponless. Without money. A noble.”

Eyes shifted in several different directions.

They’d seen him. They’d seen Kai.

Micah stiffened, not hearing anything. Traces of familiarity, recognition, maybe, but nothing spoken aloud as their eyes shifted to Bren with an air of hesitancy.

_Aw…_

“With the exception of the ones at your back, no one has seen any nobles here.” Bren pushed off from the vending stand and sauntered conceitedly towards Micah. “Sorry to waste your time and resources with the trip back _home_ , Your Royal Highness.”

Agitation tore at Micah’s calm resolve.

He really did try.

As prince, he had a duty to uphold. He needed to be politically correct and he needed to keep his tongue in check. Be graceful. Untouchable and entirely sophisticated as he reminded all others of his higher and unattainable social status. Unfortunately, being quick to temper did not allow him that luxury. With Kai in danger, it only added fuel to the fire.

Micah exhaled a small, breathless laugh. Bren was muscular. Physically capable, undoubtedly. Judging from the obedient silence of the spectators, Bren was one of the few who disillusioned himself as the man in charge. Perhaps it was because of his youth and prowess; perhaps his cruel streak ignited fear in the others. No matter.  

An alpha dog, who received such high-ranking position by extracting fear amongst those who followed him, was easy to dismantle.

“Perhaps I can jog your memory, Bren.” He shuffled closer to the man, meeting him halfway with a lazy swagger. “As I recall, you needed continuous reviews and gentle handling back in school for the simplest of subjects. I don’t reckon that has changed any, has it? We can take it slowly. Ease into it.”

Bren’s features twisted and he hocked a large spitball near Micah’s boots. A few strands of bubbled saliva splattered near the soles of his boots, not quite touching, yet their white, foamy strands stood out against the black leather.

“May Agni curse you, you pathetic cur.”

Micah gazed listlessly at the bubbled spit, wearily amused at the curse. _Agni, curse him._ Well, he supposed Agni had both cursed and blessed him. In his own, special way. Coyly, he looked up at the man. “You’re fortunate that didn’t get on my boots. I’d have you on your knees to lick it off like the dog you are.”  

The fist came at him, just as he’d anticipated.

Micah cupped it with his palm just as quickly, the force impressive. He smirked, holding the man’s strength with his own, not budging, not flinching from the animalistic growl emitting from the man’s lips.

The only way to surpass an alpha was to put it down.

Bren looked between Micah’s hand and his calm features, no doubt growing angrier over the prospect of an unafraid challenger. In front of the others, no less. The man’s pupils expanded, evidence his common sense fell way to rage. The Igni pulled his arm back, yet Micah kept hold, his fingers like hooks as they dug into the man’s curled fist. Bren lashed out with his free arm, loosening his sturdy stance and creating an opening for Micah to make his move.

Gripping the right arm with both hands now, Micah dodged the oncoming strike by twisting both his stance and the arm in his possession. Holding the arm at and awkward angle, Micah chopped the area outside Bren’s forearm with the edge of his palm.

The man cried out in surprise as Micah hit the major nerve. Continuing his pivot around the larger man, he kicked the back of Bren’s knees, sending the man to the ground. As soon as he hit the unforgiving sand, Micah brought back his hand and struck the man’s temple from behind, traumatizing the nerves and knocking him unconscious.

Bren slumped to the ground, defeated with only three blows.

Micah considered that a personal victory.

Walking around the defeated form, he looked back into the observing and immobile crowd. Some were incredulous, mostly those who could not anticipate such an easy defeat against Bren. Micah imagined people who did not possess confidence and a general knowledge of human anatomy would fall quite easily to someone as strong at Bren. Fortunately, he possessed both those things after tutelage under Master Idris.

“I’m looking for a noble,” he repeated loudly. “He would have been here several days ago, maybe weeks,” he said again, his words monotonous yet his tone hard, forceful. “He would have been alone. Weaponless. Without money.”

Slowly circling his downed rival, he waited patiently. He did not have to wait long.

“Ember.”  

That piqued his interest. Micah pivoted, staring at a burly apple merchant, one who looked familiar from his days living here.

“She took him off the streets awhile back.” The merchant sneered. “There was an incident at her living quarters. Fire. Flood. No one really knows what happened. Just that it was a disaster. They say Noir Users. No one has seen them for quite some time.”

A fire, a flood. Water? Fire? Noir Users?

Micah laughed under his breath. Of course Noir Users would be to blame. A natural deduction, he supposed, considering the rare possibility of many different Elementals banding together and wreaking havoc in an underground housing district. But what really happened? The Syphon had allies? Or was it Dushyanta? Or possibly another god rounding vessels with Elemental powers like the attack at the capital?

And Ember…

Was it _his_ Ember? His mother? How was she involved?

A sick feeling settled in his stomach.

“Micah?” Viktor whispered near him.

Micah hummed in response, tilting his head to show he was listening.

“Does it usually rain in the desert?”

The question was entirely peculiar. He turned to his teammate, noticing Viktor’s attention far out into the distance. Following his line of sight, Micah observed the dark clouds and the unmistakable sheet of distant rain.

“No,” Micah replied distantly. “Not usually.”  

“We’re not going there, are we?” Viktor inquired fretfully.

Micah started forward and beckoned the others to follow him. “We are.”

“You’re not going alone!” the merchant demanded. By now, the occupants of the bazaar all took notice of the distant rain and grew agitated. “That can’t be anything good.”

Micah did not stop his retreat as he replied. “Of course I’m not going alone. I have my team with me.”

Despite his bravado, he couldn’t help but hear the cage hinges groan open, inviting them inside with nothing but unmasked intentions. Agni was right. They were fools for walking so willingly into this trap.

_For Kai._

 


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

**25\. Chapter Twenty-Five**

 

“They are not beacons, child, but entities who wish to remain undetected,” Micah impersonated, pitching his voice to sound like Agni.

Said entity offered him an uninspired look. “I said _until_ they do not,” Agni emphasized. “Evidently, they do _not_ wish to remain undetected. They are hailing us almost as subtly as your teammate is hiding that pain in her fractured wrist.”

Micah stayed back as his team clambered into the inner region conveyance train. The conveyance unit resembled a carriage more than it did a traditional train. However, instead of a horse as the power source, the small, single-compartment unit ran off the bulky coal and steam engine situated in the front. It was a broken-down piece of rusted equipment used to shuttle the residents between the desert settlements of Region 20. Judging from the noises it emitted, and the noxious scent of rust, Micah imagined it was close to its expiration.

Fortunately, the place they believed Kai to be located had tracks close by.

Otherwise, it would have taken them a couple of hours to reach their destination by foot.

“They?” Micah ignored his comment regarding Talia. She knew her limits. Just as well, Micah acknowledged her intractability. “It looks as if Varuna is also eager to play. I highly doubt a mere water Elemental has the power to make it rain like that. In the desert, no less. _Your_ territory.”

Agni did not respond.

With Haken as his vessel, it was undoubtedly difficult for him to contort his expression to convey the true extent of his displeasure. Haken was still young. He still possessed innocent features that clashed prominently against Agni’s immorality.

“Apt,” Micah persisted when Agni continued to remain silent. “I’ve met all of your siblings but Varuna. Its due time I met your other brother. I hope he isn’t as underwhelming as Vayu.”

“You will not meet him today. He is not in the mortal realm.” Agni gazed toward the distant rain. “To create such a display indicates he is toying from a distance.”

“He’s more powerful, you mean. In his true form. In his own realm.”

Agni blinked languidly. “We have too many players in this confrontation as it is. Varuna likes the focus. The sole attention. I highly doubt he’s going to act further today.”   

“Unless the others fail.”

The entity turned to him. “Varuna wouldn’t dare.”

Rather abruptly, the fire god approached the conveyance unit, clearly finished with the conversation.

“For being an ancient entity, you are strangely delusional.” The words escaped his mouth like vomit. And he couldn’t stop. Agni paused in the entrance of the transport upon Micah’s words, his movements precarious. “Whatever misconceptions you have of me, of my importance, they aren’t true,” Micah persisted heatedly. “Those misconceptions you have only serve to infuriate the gods. We can’t win this. Just you and I? A mortal and a single god, no matter how powerful, is no match against all the others gods.”

Agni turned and appeared so suddenly before him, it was unnatural.  

Moments before, Micah assumed Haken possessed far too much virtue to convey Agni’s true nature. That assumption abruptly vanished as he stared into an expression so sadistically forbidding, he felt the pendant around his neck burn. 

A hand raked through his hair, as if affectionately massaging his scalp, before the grip rooted around the strands and tugged _._ Micah exhaled through his nose at the pressure, surprised when Agni forced his head to the side, exposing his neck and throat. For a moment, he thought the man would bite his jugular, for Agni’s lips traced fixatedly across the thin skin.

“Do not underestimate me.”

Stilling, Micah admired the peculiar, dark shiver of desire over Agni’s words.

If the words went unheeded, it was a promise of vicious retribution.

No matter how unhealthy, no matter how much he convinced himself otherwise, he would always prefer this side of Agni. The side that made him first believe the entity was not a god, but a daemon. The man had the ability to demonstrate such palpable darkness, so thick Micah could inhale it and savor it on his tongue. He could feel it. Feel it replicated and mirroring back at something settling just as dark inside him.

He turned nearly compliant in Agni’s hold, wanting to further the strange, hostile intimacy, yet knowing it was neither the time nor the place for such perverse desires. Guiltily, he glanced over Haken’s shoulder, thankful the team could not see him in his current position.

“Most importantly,” Agni whispered silkily. “Do not underestimate yourself.” His hand released Micah’s scalp to pet his hair mockingly. “I paid close attention to your upbringing. Show me I succeeded with eliminating unnecessary self-doubt and replacing it with confidence.”

Constructing his expression to one of stoicism, Micah stared resolutely into Agni’s eyes. “Mortals are allotted moments of doubt, no matter how confident they may be,” he said. “Especially when they are pulled into situations blindfolded, all under the entertainment of a bored, scheming immortal.”

“I have not blindfolded you.”

“But you do not deny that this is entertainment.”

“Nor did I deny that I am bored, scheming, or immortal,” Agni replied pleasantly. “I have given you all the information you need to know about our current situation. You may question my intentions, but I assure you we are on the same side.” 

Micah regarded Agni doubtfully before turning and hurrying to the transport.

Upon entering the rusted contraption, his team all turned to him, their eyes expectant with an underlying hint of trepidation. Micah nodded to the conductor of the transport as soon as Agni climbed in behind him.

“We’re ready.”

The man nodded resolutely, though even he harbored a noticeable air of hesitancy. He, like all the other residents of Region 20, recognized the unnatural circumstances as something to fear. Soon, it would grow impossible to blame the Noir Users when the gods were responsible. When mortals became aware of the displeased gods, chaos would undoubtedly break loose.

There were only four passenger seats in the transportation unit, though there was enough room to stand in the aisle and in the rear. Once the transport jerked into bumpy motion, Micah reached up and curled his hand around the overhead bar to maintain his balance. He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, centering himself and observing his team.

They were exceptionally rigid.

Unprepared. Uncertain.

Indubitably, Viktor was candid when he claimed the team was out of practice. Whether they chose Talia to lead the team in Kai’s and Micah’s absence, or if she naturally fell into the position, Micah did not doubt the others grew languid. He did not question Talia’s ability to lead and push the others, rather, he recognized the potential for the others to disregard her instructions and perform their exercises half-heartedly.

They were undoubtedly chastising themselves at the moment.

“I have faith Talia did a good job with all of you in the absence of Kai and myself.” Micah’s words pierced through the jarring movements of the transport. “You should be well prepared.”

Maybe he was sadistic. He enjoyed watching them squirm at his remark.

Futile glances traded between Viktor and Aiden, the two who no doubt required a firmer hand. Talia would find it vexing to keep on them. While she had a remarkable amount of confidence for a female in such a male-dominated society, she wouldn’t have enough experience leading other men. She’d find herself conflicted on how best to proceed. Moreover, Cain was far too quiet to be of any firm support.

Yes. Viktor and Aiden were out of practice.

A cruel grin uplifted his lips. He felt Agni’s eyes on him, observing him just as closely as Micah was observing the team. “Of course,” Micah started airily. “If you hadn’t listened to her, then I expect you’d be a bit… disconcerted over our current mission.”

Viktor threw up his arms. “Alright! I get it, Micah!” he cried. “Aiden and I slacked off. I know you are aware!”

“Speak for yourself,” Aiden criticized. “I’m just fine.”

Viktor reared up, turning to his companion across the aisle. “You slacked off more than I did! I find it hard to believe you’d be ‘just fine’.”

“I am putting extra efforts into my studies! They’re far more difficult this term.”

Before they started an all-out argument, Micah injected smoothly. “I said you’d be disconcerted over the mission. I did not say that you’d fail. All of you are capable. All of you are extremely skilled. Even before we became a team, I noticed the potential you all possessed. I have total confidence you’ll do just fine.” 

Viktor deflated as he greedily absorbed Micah’s words.

“Be that as it may, when we get back to the capital with Kai, we will discuss future training regimens. No matter who is leading, you should uphold the utmost respect to both your team leader and yourselves. It is imperative you continue improving.”

They sulked with an air of resignation.

Micah shook his head. He believed he chastised them appropriately considering their circumstances. If he proceeded correctly, he would have instilled the burning need to prove their worth today. He would have also instilled confidence of a future returning to the palace with Kai.

“What do you believe we will be facing today, Micah?” Cain asked.

A reasonable question from a warrior. From anyone, really, no matter the rank. “I don’t know the extent of what we’re facing today,” he replied, telling half the truth and eliminating the rest. “I anticipate that Noir Users will be involved.”

He tried not to feel the mocking eyes of Agni focused intently on the side of his face. Recalling their earlier conversation, with the focus on kingdoms using Noir Users as scapegoats for situations they did not want to tell their people, Micah felt a minor pang of regret for following suit. Yet, how else would he explain gods and Syphons in such short time? No, he had to blame it on the Noir Users, just as he was sure Calder would do the same back at the capital.

“Not traditional Magi, but a more radical group.”

“Meaning?” Aiden pressed, his features twisting.

“Meaning less emphasis on _magic,_ as opposed to the Elements and swords. They have not banded together to learn black magic, but rather in attempt to rebel against their kingdoms. They will most likely be members of the same group that attacked the capital.”

“That wanted to attack _you_ ,” Talia concluded. “And they’re using Kai as bait.”

“How do we know he’s not dead?” Aiden asked.

Micah’s features cooled. “He’s not.”

They turned silent after that, most likely thinking him delusional. Perhaps he was. Why would a Syphon keep a mortal alive? All it needed was Micah to sniff out the trail and follow with intentions to rescue. The Syphon knew Agni would follow closely. There were no promises that the trail would lead to an alive and well Kai.

“I believe he’s alive, Micah,” Viktor said firmly. “And we’ll bring him back.”

Micah pressed his cheek against his raised arm and smiled at the blond-haired noble.

“I can’t imagine a team without Kai,” Cain continued, as if detecting the need for the others to hold out hope just as well. “He needs us and we need him. I remember the first days we became a team. It was discord and chaos.”

Aiden laughed once. “Completely ludicrous. We thought we could actually make it work when our team was separated into two divisions.”

“Two captains. Two teams trying to work together as one.” In a show of unusual expression, Cain grinned widely. “It didn’t take long for Kai to grow attached to Micah though, did it?”

Viktor sniggered. “He became wicked jealous of Keegan. Typical spoiled noble.”

“That’s not how it went,” Micah interrupted exasperatedly, inclined to defend Kai against his more spoiled tendencies. “Wayde was the catalyst for unification. His passing was unfortunate and premature, but it’s what made us realize the severity of our actions. We recognized we could not do this separately, but together, no matter our status in society.” Smiling jaggedly, he kept his bitterness from his tone.  “We’ve already lost two members of our team. I refuse to lose another,” Micah said. “We’ll get Kai back. And then we can recollect.”

“Over good whiskey, I hope,” Viktor commented expectantly.

“Only the best whiskey,” Micah reassured. “I’ll see what the palace has in stock.”

Viktor cheered excitingly, earning grins from the others.

They turned silent after that.

Micah offered Agni a tight grin, knowing the entity was far from impressed with his attempts of motivating the team. However, as he looked toward the man, he realized Agni did not watch him with mocking displeasure, but rather a deep, contemplative impassiveness.

Once Agni realized he had Micah’s regard, he turned away.

Micah knew it would take far longer than his mortal years to understand Agni. Perhaps it was best not to try so hard to understand.

They plotted along the makeshift tracks, inching closer to the raincloud of anticipated doom. Micah watched their advance through the conductor’s dirty windshield, feeling his apprehension grow. They were so close.

He could smell the rain in the air.

“We’re going to have different pairs today.” Upon his instruction, all eyes turned in his direction. “Talia will be with Viktor. Aiden and Cain will be paired together.” Upon seeing Aiden ready to argue, Micah held up a hand, silencing him. “Trust me on this, Aiden.”

The only two with injuries should not be paired together. It would spell disaster before they even began their mission. Moreover, Micah saw the growing rift between Viktor and Aiden. While they fought well together, were familiar with one another, such growing animosity was disconcerting, especially when they used to get along so well.

Were politics truly to blame over their partition? Would they lose Aiden to Josiah?

Micah’s attention honed as the sound of rain began to patter and rebound off the transport’s metal exterior. Steam from the covered engine bellowed and spluttered, emitting sounds that indicated it was on its last leg. The others inched forward in their seats, observing the rain and the small, abandoned establishments.

Even before Micah and Ember relocated to Region 20, this minuscule settlement to the southeast had already earned the reputation of a ghost town. Unsurprisingly, the ghost town came with its fair share of horror stories. Consequently, children used to dare each other to venture out to the town and spend the night. Amusing, really, considering the town used to be temporary site for visiting Igni royalty and nobility. The war had destroyed the majority of the town, save for a few underground tunnels and crumbling structures that could never be reimagined.

“This is where I stop.”

Grabbing the large lever, the conductor yanked hard, causing the transport to jerk to an abrupt stop. Fortunately, Micah already had hold of the overhead bar, though he still lurched forward, his ears ringing as metal ground against metal, the entire transport whining as it stopped unnaturally.

“The gods have cursed this place.” The driver turned in his enormous chair, searching Micah out with wide, spooked eyes. “Varuna is unhappy.”

After recovering from their whiplash, the team submerged in the heavy silence, sending Micah futile gazes. He closed his eyes, practicing steady breathing. The rain beat across the transport quicker, louder. For just a moment, he absorbed the peaceful pause, knowing things were about to get worse. Much worse. He had to center himself. Brace his mind and calm his frantic pulse.

He was ready.

“I have your word you will wait here?” Micah inquired calmly. Opening his eyes, he levelled the man with a firm, penetrating stare. “We may have injured to transport and we cannot do that on foot. No matter what you see, you will wait here. Or am I putting too much confidence in you?”

A brief shadow—nothing more than a flicker—peered out from behind the man’s eyes. “I will wait here. I give you my word.”

Micah continued observing him, feeling a bit disappointed. Evidently, words and promises did not mean much anymore. He then looked to Agni, the entity clearly reading his expression. Haken’s lips curled malevolently as he inclined his head with understanding. They needed the transport. Not only for a quick departure, but also for the possibility of injured parties.

They could not rely on a man who was afraid of a bit of rain.

“Okay.” Micah released the overhead bar and made for the heavy door to the outside. “Then we will travel by foot from here.”

While they hadn’t stopped in the heart of the ghost town, they were still close enough.  

The team clambered obediently from their seats, their trepidation fading way to firm resolve. As he opened the hatched door, warm rain trickled steadily down his face. He motioned the others out first, wanting them out so Agni could accomplish his task.

Once the others were safely outside the transport, Micah’s boots hit the hard ground, the dry earth hardly softening under the rain. Reaching back to touch his sword, his fingers ran across the hilt in a reassuring manner. The pads of his fingers traced the bumpy and metallic texture of the serpent’s scales, a familiar, comforting sensation that centered his mind.

“Keep your eyes open,” he informed the others. He took lead as they approached the ghost town. “Report anything out of the ordinary that you may see.”

“What about Haken?”

Micah glanced over his shoulder. “He’ll catch up.”

He did not miss the way the others traded significant looks.

They were not stupid. They were also smart enough to keep their comments to themselves.

Agni rejoined moments later. Micah grimaced as he felt the man settle at the rear of the group, his presence, or perhaps both Agni’s and _Haken’s_ presence, impossible to overlook.

In the distance, a loud, unnerving moan rattled their surroundings, unmistakable even under the heavy onslaught of rain. Micah paused, feeling the discord shake his bearings. Breathless laughter floated whimsically near his ear. Turning, Micah observed the nearly intangible form of Dushyanta. Bulging eyes and the swollen, blue face suspended just inches from him.

Micah did not scare easily, especially when it came to deliberate acts intended to cause fear, and especially when he’d already seen it back at the capital. Yet, there was something particularly disturbing about the god of enmity. Mismatched and uneven pupils twirled around wildly in their sockets before they disappeared into the back of his skull. With his tongue hanging past his chin, the entity laughed wickedly.

Then he was gone in a cloud of red-gold, a second entity in hot pursuit.

Micah whirled around frantically, bypassing the fearful expressions of his team to peer at Haken. The silver aura thrummed brightly around the other man, no longer tainted by the possession of a god.

Agni was gone.

It had happened much sooner than he’d anticipated.

He glanced back over his shoulder, unable to spy the red-gold auras through the rain. He had no time to dwell in the sudden feeling of isolation without the fire god at his shoulder, for nearby, a building suddenly exploded in a shower of stone and fire.

“Run!”

Micah ushered the team away from the falling stone. They sprinted across the hard ground and towards the mouth of an underground tunnel. Micah felt it before he crossed the threshold, knew what it was, but led his team there anyway. Stones fell behind them, hitting the cemented sand before bouncing and sliding into the back of their heels.  

As they raced further down the tunnel, darkness completely engulfed them.

Hearing nothing but the wild pounding of his heart, he slowed, anticipating the others to bump behind him. “Haken,” he called. “Fire.”

With Agni no longer possessing Haken, confusion and disorientation would plague the boy. Nonetheless, a flame ignited upon Micah’s request and grew larger, providing them with necessary light and guidance.

Observing the others, he noted the pallor and the wide, terrified eyes.

“What was that?” Aiden asked.

Dushyanta hadn’t taken his true form, but had rather been a faint, intangible figure. Undoubtedly, Micah seemed to have the ability to see things other mortals did not, so he treaded carefully. “What did you see?”

“I didn’t see anything but I had the strangest sensation.”

Aiden added, “Like evil was right at my heels. Chasing me.” 

The others abruptly agreed. Micah nodded along with them, catching and holding Haken’s eyes. “I felt the same.” He pressed his lips together in displeasure at the Igni Healer’s palpable panic. “Whatever it was, it is not an ally. We need to be cautious.”

“I feel uncomfortable in here, Micah,” Viktor exclaimed. He touched the back of his neck and hunkered low. “Like there are eyes on me. Everywhere. Not good eyes, either.”

Fear. Trepidation.

The cold hand of horror encompassed this tunnel. Micah had felt it as they ran towards it from outside. Despite its foreboding, it was a familiar feeling. The Syphon who dwelled around Micah emitted a similar aura. He did not doubt the Syphon who held Kai lingered in this tunnel. Moreover, it knew the exact moment Micah and his team entered its domain.

Eyes, Viktor said. It was a suitable comparison.

Micah’s skin prickled and he shifted, forcing his stance to reflect one of confidence and strength. “That means we are in the right place,” he replied quietly. “Kai is here.”

“Death is here,” Talia remarked stiffly. “It’s not good, Micah.”

They all peered at him as if he could make it go away. “I’m not going to force you to continue,” he said. He looked pointedly at Haken, who’d remained silent and unnaturally still. “I need to get Kai, but I need a strong team at my back or no team at all. We cannot have any liabilities.”

“Going back out _there_ won’t make us feel any better.” Cain turned to survey his teammates. “The conductor was right. This place is cursed. No matter where we go, this same, hopeless feeling will follow us. We can’t leave Kai here.”

“We need to stay together,” Viktor agreed readily.

“Noir Users are infamous for creating intimidating atmospheres,” Micah said in an attempt to qualm their fear. “It is nothing but an illusion to make you feel vulnerable. Not true, not tangible, but illusionary.”

Haken shook his head, recognizing Micah’s lie and finding it inexcusable. Fortunately, he did not speak and the others did not see him. Was it better to lie to the team and give them false hope? Or should he have told the truth and let them drown in hopeless, paralyzing fear? For now, he was going to decide on the former. Later, if he felt it appropriate, he’d tell the others what they truly faced and what they most likely would face again in the future: gods and their darker equivalents, the Syphons.

“Can I speak to you privately, Micah?” Haken asked brusquely.

“There is no time for private conversations!” Aiden yelled exaggeratedly. “I want to get this over with as soon as possible. I can’t stay in here much longer.” 

“I need to do this, or I’m not coming along.”

Upon Haken’s threat, mulish expressions cast in Micah’s direction. They realized, just as much as he, that Haken’s presence was required to continue down the tunnels. They needed a fire Elemental. They needed the light.

Micah inclined his head, indicating further down the tunnel.

As he walked a distance away, he murmured, “This isn’t the best time—”

“It’s true.”

In a panic, Haken crowded him, the flame on his palm reaching to touch Micah’s bicep. Startled, and clumsily moving his hand away with a fearful apology, Haken stopped short. The flame had phased straight through Micah’s arm as if it were air. For a moment, the man blinked, as if reminding himself of Micah’s immunity.

He recovered quickly.

“All of it’s true!” he fretted. “You and your abilities. The fact there are _gods_!”

“Hush,” Micah admonished.

“Agni!” Haken persisted frantically. “He’ll come back, won’t he? He’ll erase my memories of today, but I don’t want him to. I feel so—so confident and alive right now!” he continued to rant. “But he also has an infatuation with _you_. Maybe he’ll kill me because he knows we are Chosen. This is worse than Lord Josiah!”

Micah’s fingers itched to tighten around the boy’s neck. Instead, he placed his hands firmly upon Haken’s shoulders and applied pressure. Despite the inconvenient timing, he sensed Haken’s true panic. As much as it pained him, he forced his anger to quiet.

He needed Haken to focus. “We have no time for this, Haken,” Micah started soothingly as he pushed away his frustrations. A part of him was curious to know what Haken truly remembered during Agni’s possession, but that would have to wait until later. “He will come back, yes. He will most likely erase your memories, but he will not kill you.”

“The Syphon thing… it’s here, in the tunnel, isn’t it? It wants Agni.”

“Haken—”

“And the god up there? Dushyanta? He wants _you_?” Haken blinked at the cold and severe expression across Micah’s face. He then bowed his head submissively. “I know. Now isn’t the time. I just want you to convince Agni not to erase my memories.”

“If that is what it will take for you to continue moving, then yes, I will try to ask Agni to spare your memories.”

Despite the lack of conviction in both his tone and words, Haken seemed to appreciate the weak promise anyway. The other man nodded and stepped back. Micah wasted no time beckoning the others forward and leading them through the underground tunnels. Agni would have been a better leader, as he was intimately familiar with the Igni underground culture, yet Micah had something just as advantageous.

His intuition.

The underground tunnels weren’t just tunnels. It was a fortress buried beneath several hundred feet of hard ground. There were small entrances to rooms that appeared chillingly abandoned with old items left behind in haste. The smell of mildew was strong. Micah had his assumptions that water Elementals had attacked this place with floods during the war. Since then, the water had retreated as a result of passing time and the warm, dry climate.

Any side chambers or offshoots that emitted a dark and oppressive forbidding was the direction Micah turned. Instead of running from the malevolence, they hurried into its cold, reaching embrace.

Suddenly, a loud reverberation trembled the tunnels, seemingly coming from above ground. Micah considered the tunnel ceiling, blinking past the small flecks of sand and water that showered upon his upturned face.

He wondered how Agni was fairing against Dushyanta.

And a meddling Varuna.

Considering Agni was in such a weak form, Micah knew the entity would not be quite as victorious as he boosted, especially if Varuna was actively opposing him as well.

He exhaled in frustration.

Reaching behind his shoulder, Micah withdrew his sword from its holster, hearing the others quickly follow suit.

Up ahead, a chamber entrance loomed. There was no door and a tangible sense of unease radiated strong from within the deep, fathomless darkness. Unlike the other chamber rooms they’d passed, this one had unique tiles decorating the high, arched entrance. The tiles were brightly colored, as most things were from the deep south with their blues, reds, and yellows. Some tiles were cracked and worn. Others still appeared majestic. It must have been a great hall of sorts when it stood proud and habitable.

Now it was just a sad hue of its former glory as it housed something as equally as haunting as forgotten memories.

Micah inhaled calmly and crossed the threshold first. High-pitched whispering gently caressed his ears upon his entry. Several voices, age and sex ambiguous, murmured quietly, yet when Haken arrived with the light, there was no one in sight. The chamber was so large, so expansive, the light from the flame did not reach all the corners of the room. Junctions remained dark, eerie, the high ceiling a mystery to its true height. Yet, despite the light, the whispers remained persistent.

Micah turned his heel, searching for the source, feeling both dread and cold settle deep into his bones. It was a feeling he’d never experienced. Something pulled at him. While it was foreign and frightening, something… _something…_

“What’s wrong, Micah?” Talia asked.

“Don’t you hear that? The whispering?” Micah asked quietly, straining his ears to catch the words or at least the tenor behind the whispers.

Were they angry? Scheming?

“No.”

His attention dropped quickly to the others, incredulous. “ _No_?”

“It already feels… uncanny in here without hearing whispers,” Viktor responded. His face, partially obscured by shadow, moved about the room before settling back onto Micah. “I can’t hear anything. Total silence. Too silent.”

“What’s that?” Cain pointed beyond Micah’s shoulder with his sword.

Everyone turned.

Barely painted by the fire, was a faint shape in the dark. Micah distinguished it was light, at least lighter than the rest of their surroundings. He motioned the others to follow as he prowled closer. His senses screamed that this wasn’t right. He needed to leave. An enemy, with far greater power and proficiency, lingered here. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t lure his team any closer.

Pushing away the trepidation, he approached the shape, realizing it was a human.

A man.

Dressed in a white tunic, the figure sat at the center of a raised dais with his back to Micah and the team. Judging from the short, choppy blond hair, and the familiar broad shoulders, Micah instantly knew it to be Kai.

A very still and motionless Kai.

Micah stopped. He licked his lips anxiously and tightened his grip on his sword. Nothing supported Kai’s upright position, appearing as if he were strong enough to do it himself. Yet, he sat there unnaturally still, his legs propped out in front of him, his head lowered, and both arms at his sides, limp.

“ _Kai_!” Viktor screamed shrilly.

The others pressed eagerly against Micah, having recognized him just as well, but he held out an arm, preventing them from moving any closer. Kai did not stir upon Viktor’s shout. He remained a lifeless, discarded statue. Dark stains dotted his white tunic. While it was difficult to distinguish the source in such poor lighting, Micah had his suspicions that it was dried blood.

Gradually, he inched forward, all under the heavy atmosphere of dread. The whispers had not died, if anything, they grew with intensity as they followed the tempo of his quickening pulse. Eyes watched at a distance. He could feel them as plainly as one could see the sun on a warm, vibrant day.

His leather boots creaked audibly as he walked sideways up the raised dais, his movements strained and as slow as a cautious predator.

Approaching Kai, Micah lowered himself into a squat.

Greedily, he scrutinized Kai’s face.

“Don’t come any closer,” Micah commanded the others, his eyes obsessively tracing over Kai’s blank expression.

The team heeded his order, their anxiety palpable.

The left side of Kai’s face appeared slack, yet unharmed as he stared straight ahead. If it weren’t for the other man’s deep, controlled breathing, Micah would have believed him dead. For on the right side of Kai’s face, strips of flesh were missing, revealing gruesome, bloody wounds across his strong jawline. Micah’s stomach dropped as he noticed the empty eye socket. He then noticed the young man’s dark lips and teeth, wondering and hoping it was not what he thought it was.

_Agni,_ he cursed mentally.

He turned sideways, placing a curled fist against his mouth to stifle the nausea of tragedy and pity. His lips traced the cool leather of his fingerless gloves as he drowned in the sensation of sorrow. Forcibly, he pulled himself together. Now was not the time. He didn’t know the extent of Kai’s frame of mind.

Turning back around, he adopted a blank expression as he surveyed his comrade.  “Kai,” he called softly.

Reaching out, his hand landed on Kai’s shoulder.

The whispering stopped.

Kai jerked.

The man’s single eye rotated around to look fearfully at Micah. Jerking away, Kai gazed around the chamber fretfully, his entire body trembling madly. His hands reached up and touched the empty socket of his right eye, a terrible, broken noise radiating from his throat.

“Kai,” Micah attempted once again.

Cupping his missing eye, Kai focused on Micah. They stared at one another, the silence nearly deafening. “Kai,” Micah repeated a third time, sounding both firm and reassuring. “We’re here. The team and I are going to bring you back with us. We’re sorry you had to wait so long.”

“M-Micah?”

The other man’s inquiry was hoarse with both disuse and prodigious emotion. A sob bubbled from his throat as he closed the distance and embraced Micah urgently. In turn, Micah instantly wrapped his arms around the other man, holding him close with desperation. _He is alive. But how?_ Micah pushed away the trepidation. Relief bubbled hysterically in his chest and he released a grateful laugh. As Kai buried his face into the crook of Micah’s neck, he immediately noticed the boy’s hot, scalding skin.

A fever, he realized with sinking dread.

“I didn’t think I’d ever get out of here. The things they made me do—Micah—Micah... Trapped in my own mind.”

“Hush.” Micah curled a hand around the boy’s warm neck in an attempt to placate the fevered ramblings. “We will talk about this later. But right now, we need to get out of here.”

It wouldn’t be that easy, though, would it?

The Syphon wouldn’t allow them to waltz out of here without a confrontation. If it was patient enough to wait all these years, and smart enough to wait until it could draw both Agni and Micah at the same time, it would not let the opportunity slip from its fingers.

Micah stood, Kai’s arms remaining a tight, desperate hold. With the unexpected weight, he stumbled, but managed to keep standing. “Can you walk? Or are you injured?”

“Besides the obvious, Egan?” Kai lamented breathlessly.

“Unlike your eye, it seems as if your sarcasm hasn’t gone missing.”

Kai exhaled with dark cynicism and pressed a hand to Micah’s chest. The noble took a moment to stand, using Micah as a crutch. As soon as he gave a consenting nod, Micah wrapped his arm around Kai’s waist and helped him down the dais. The team watched them descend, their expressions all varying degrees of horror and surprise as they absorbed Kai’s face.

Kai watched them steadily, his expression contorted into a severe mask. “Don’t stare,” he hissed at them with surprising venom. Dark, stained teeth strained against equally dark lips in a semblance of a snarl. “I don’t want to see your pity!”

Upon initial evaluation, Kai appeared as if he would recover well enough. Nonetheless, Micah wasn’t going to jump to hopeful conclusions. He’d have to evaluate Kai in a controlled environment to know the extent of his mental scars. He wasn’t going to assume Kai would be back to normal, no matter how much his adrenaline, at the moment, made him appear relatively sane. After the shock of his rescue and ordeal wore off, Micah imagined reality would set in.

“It’s good to see you too, Kai,” Viktor expressed.

While his comment was derisive, the emotion behind his expression and tone gave him away instantly.

He was relieved. They were all so very relieved.

Kai lost his petulant scowl as he surveyed his team, no doubt recognizing this.

“Cain,” Micah called. “Can you take over?”

“I can walk.” Kai pulled himself from Micah’s arms and stumbled, yet his bolshiness prevented him from falling to the ground. “Eventually.”

Cain and Micah exchanged significant looks. Kai did not protest as Cain approached him and took hold of his waist. The two clambered past the others, approaching the exit of the chamber. Micah, waiting for the inevitable, stayed back and watched his team’s departure.

The whispering started once more.

As he turned his back to the dais, he felt his senses run haywire. The cold returned as it deviously slipped beneath his clothes and prickled greedily at his skin. Closing his eyes against the feeling, he hurried after his team.

“Where are the Noir Users?” Aiden demanded to Kai.

“Noir Users? Is that what we’re calling them?” Kai groused. He appeared nearly limp against Cain’s hold, barely able to move his feet in time with the others.

“It’s what Micah’s calling them.”

Here, Aiden threw him a suspicious look.  

Kai did not respond.

“They want Micah,” Aiden continued. “They were using you as bait.” He made quick note of their surroundings, his eyes jumping from one end of the tunnel to the other. “But they haven’t made an appearance.”

“Perhaps silence is preferred at the moment. Stating the obvious will not make the situation any better.” Micah endured Aiden’s displeasure. “All we can focus on right now is making it out of here.”  

“Up ahead!” Aiden exclaimed with a loud whisper.

They all hesitated once they saw light moving toward them. It rebounded off the tunnel walls and moved at an impressive speed.  

Micah forced his way to the front of the team. “Prepare yourselves.” Lifting his sword, he kept close to the tunnel wall. “Haken, extinguish your flame.” The boy did so, casting them in complete darkness and giving them the advantage. “Whatever happens, it is imperative you get Kai back to the transport, do you understand me?” Micah demanded quietly. “That is your priority.”

Pressing against the bend of the tunnel wall, he watched the crimson light’s approach. As soon as it was just around the corner, and when the sound of feet hit the hard ground, Micah lunged from behind the wall, his hackles raised.

Only, it wasn’t who he’d expected.

Two pairs of golden eyes stared at him in surprise, their own stances on the defense at the near ambush. Identical grins appeared on their faces upon identifying Micah.

“My Lord!” one of them yelled down the tunnel. “We found the prince!”

Micah fell back on his heels, his mind spinning. The two Igni twins, who were a part of Josiah’s personal guard, stood before him. A lazy ball of flame hovered just above their shoulders, evidently the source of the crimson light. Their high ponytails were so tight, it pulled at the corners of their eyes, making them appear even more cat-like than he’d remembered.

He’d only seen them once before, an incredibly brief encounter, yet they were so distinctive, he hadn’t forgotten them.

“What are you doing here?” Micah demanded.

“Well,” one of them started casually. “When the king sends out a distress call for his missing heir, and they see him and his team jump on a train to Region 20, it’s a bit apparent where that missing heir is headed. Naturally, King Calder ordered Lord Josiah and several guards to go after you.” The man paused. “Which explains what we’re doing here.”

The other stirred. “It doesn’t necessarily explain what _you’re_ doing here, but we don’t question royalty… for the most part.”

_Lord Josiah?_

Micah looked over their shoulders, spying the approach of several figures. One of them was Josiah. It was difficult to discern in the red lighting, but it appeared as if Agni was not in possession of his old vessel. Which only meant he was still above ground with Dushyanta and Varuna. Several members of Calder’s guard also accompanied Josiah and other Igni guards down the tunnel. Micah noted Conway Edlen amongst those cloaked in dark blue.

Elite warriors.

Even the Igni Lord himself.

Calder did not spare any resources.

His father suddenly earned Micah’s silent appreciation.

“You were able to find him?” Josiah inquired, not to the twins, but rather to Micah. His own palm raised, shedding light on the team huddled behind Micah’s shoulder. His attention landed on Kai. “Worse for wear, I see.”

“We have him, that’s all that matters.” Micah moved, revealing the rest of the team to the others. “Edlen,” he called. “I need your assistance.”

Kai jerked, as if thinking Micah were talking to him.

Conway made his way through the throng of Igni guards, his expression neutral as he stopped before Micah. “Your Highness.”

“You claim I owe you a debt,” he whispered quietly, though he was sure those closest to them could hear in the hallowed ground. “I have found a way for you to repay that. After this, there will be no more talk of debts or indebtedness, yes?”

Conway nodded once, understanding, but remaining silent.

“I need you to get Kai out of here. You and your men go out in front of us and make sure he gets medical attention as soon as possible.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Egan,” Kai insulted. “I’m staying here with the rest of you.”

“I’ll get him to the transport,” Conway settled. He glanced at his distant relative. If he noticed the wounds across the face in such poor lighting, he showed little reaction. “We have a Healer there. We’ll wait to leave until you also join us.”

A compromise, Micah thought with exasperated amusement. “Fine.” He nodded to Cain and Kai. “Go now. Talia and Haken too. Make sure your own injuries are looked at. We’ll follow close behind.” Micah adopted a severe look when Talia shook her head. “ _Now_ Talia!”

She flinched, surprise crossing her features. Micah preferred not to extract intimidation as means for the others to follow his orders, yet now was not the time for a subtler method. She was injured. She needed to leave. Likewise, so was Cain. Moreover, Haken had no combative experience. He needed to leave with the others just as well.

Cain hauled Kai forward, the latter offering Micah a severe look that was extremely impressive considering his condition.

Conway and the rest of Calder’s men crowded Cain, Kai, Talia, and Haken, cloaking them in a protective barrier. Micah watched them hurry from the tunnels, pleased to see Haken lighting their way.

“That was entirely unneeded,” Josiah commented as they set off after them. “We’ll be right behind them.”

“If you believe we’re going to make it out of here without confrontation, you’re a fool,” Micah remarked. His comment earned him sharp regard from those in proximity, either because he insulted Josiah or because of his prediction of imminent danger. 

“And you think they have a clear path?”

“They only want me.”

_Or rather Agni._

But to get to Agni, the Syphon needed better bait than Kai. It needed Micah. Yet, despite that, even Micah was suspicious how easy things were transgressing. If the Syphon desired, it could have destroyed Micah and his team long ago. Unless, of course, it had no interest in wasting energy on a group when it needed strength to confront Agni.

They kept a short distance behind Conway’s group.

Yet, as the seconds passed, Micah detected the distance stretching abnormally fast. It was impossible Kai and the others were moving quicker. It was also impossible that Micah and his group were slowing. Nevertheless, the distance continued to spread exaggeratedly until he could no longer see Haken’s flame in front of them.

Blackness stretched.

The crimson light from their flames did not seem quite so bright any longer, for the tunnel enfolded deep shadows around them. Subconsciously quickening their pace, they suddenly stumbled upon a familiar chamber entrance with its brightly colored tiles.

“No!” Aiden screamed with alarm. “ _No_!”

Similar disquiet exuded from Viktor. Micah could see their sheer horror. He felt it just as well.

“Idiot! What are you screaming for?”

“This is the chamber where we retrieved Kai,” Micah explained to the Igni warrior, feeling the hairs rise on the back of his neck. The whispers beckoned him inside. “This is where we started.”

“We took a wrong turn and circled back around,” Josiah reasoned. He took a step back, encouraging the others to do the same.

“You know that’s not it,” Micah disputed.

Josiah cast him a look. “Let’s simply go back.”

He led the others back toward the direction they came, making haste. Micah wondered if Josiah felt the foreboding just like the rest of them. Considering he had no god to hide behind, Micah assumed Josiah felt extremely vulnerable. More so than any of the others. This was probably his first mission since Agni’s possession. The man certainly seemed to contain his unease well, yet Micah could still see through it.

They twisted through the tunnels for quite some time.

It wasn’t long before they stumbled upon the chamber entrance again.

If the others hadn’t believed Micah and his team before, they certainly did so now. Josiah’s personal guards all backed away from the chamber entrance, their expressions a wide range of disbelief and trepidation.

Micah held his ground. “We need to go inside.”

“Are you crazy, Micah?” Aiden exclaimed. “We can’t go in there.”

Toeing the threshold, Micah gazed inside the dark chamber. Beside the few feet highlighted from their fires, mostly everything remained cast in shadow. “Josiah…” Micah glanced at the man at his shoulder. “Can you cast fire inside? Brighten the surroundings and see what we’re facing.”

Stretching out a gloved hand, a large sphere of flame grew over Josiah’s palm. He brought back his arm and threw the sphere inside the chamber. The ball floated whimsically and grew with intensity, enhancing its surroundings as if it were the sun. Micah and the others pressed close together, gazing inside skeptically.

Nothing.

As Micah predicted before, it was a large chamber. Solid pillars stood regally around the perimeter of the room and a raised dais situated itself in the center. There were broken ceramic vases and other trash loitered around, yet no sign of human activity. Then again, death was not human, was it?

_“Death is here,”_ Talia’s words came back to him.

Josiah’s flames suddenly extinguished. As the group turned towards the Igni king in question, the man simply shook his head, indicating he had not extinguished the flames. Rather, he lit another sphere and tossed it inside, the flames almost immediately dying as soon as it crossed the threshold of the chamber.

“That’s a message if I ever saw one,” an Igni guard whispered.

“Micah—”

“We need to go inside,” he interrupted Viktor as the boy tried to dissuade him. “What do you suggest, Uncle? Try heading back and seeing if a third time is a charm? Clearly, it won’t let us escape the tunnels unless we go inside.”

“What is _it_?” Viktor whispered loudly to Aiden.

Micah and Josiah looked at one another.

The latter nodded.

Bracing himself, Micah entered the chamber alongside Josiah.

The whispers stopped and the laughter began.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have an Agni piece of art to admire from Brokkolily! It’s absolutely amazing!! I also just realized that anonymous comments were prohibited from the comment sections of the livejournal area. I have since removed that restriction so you guys can comment on all the pieces everyone has submitted (even if you don’t have an account). Show some love to all the hard work everyone has put into such eye candy! ;) I honestly can’t thank you guys enough for actually spending time and creating things for Immunity. 
> 
> You can go [HERE](https://epic-solemnity.livejournal.com/) and see the artwork!
> 
> Oh- and Swan- an eye is not a "limb", so I stayed within our agreement ;-)


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don’t want spoilers, don’t ***GOOGLE*** the new information given in this chapter. Revelations are still coming before the end of Part 2….
> 
> However, I like one website to all the others. In Hindu religion, I’m honestly dumbstruck at how many different variations a god/goddess may have. How many different stories, how many different interpretations. It’s crazy. Being raised as a very informal and non-practicing Lutheran (one god!!), this rich culture has me *drowning* with the complexity. I am not going to follow a set theme. I’m taking some information from some interpretations and some from others. It’s a mishmash of information. 
> 
> You’ll be like…. “Hey! That’s not his/her child in the popular elucidations!” But I’ll be like…. “Yesssssssh. It is in Immunity.”

**26\. Chapter Twenty-Six**

 

“They were right behind us!”

“I know they were, Talia.”

Conway and his men stood tensely behind the open transport, gazing back towards the underground labyrinth where they’d abandoned the prince and the other men. His eyes then lifted to the skies, peering through the downpour of rain and admiring the vivid, wrathful lightning.

Across the abandoned town, tall fires burned radiantly, their ginger flames hardly shrinking beneath the onslaught of heavy rain. If anything, they roared fiercer in defiance. A sense of unease hung in the atmosphere, thickening the air with profound static. Every time he inhaled, he tasted the sheer impossibility of their current surroundings on his tongue. It was bitter, like ripe, noxious fear.

Rain in the desert.

Fires unrelenting under sheets of rain.

In the distance, a deteriorating building burst in a shower of rock, causing a few men to flinch from the thunderous explosion. Their arms jerked towards their heads, as if to protect themselves, yet the debris was a good distance away. Conway squinted. The wind remained stagnant, disquietingly silent as it opted to take on the role as a watchful spectator.  

Just like the rest of them.

Staring at the impracticality of the scene before him, Conway could only describe it like every other common man.

The fury of gods.

Unexplainable. Unnerving. Powerful.

Yes, most definitely an unbridled amount of _power._

“I kept looking back and they got further and further behind.”

Conway refocused his attention on the three figures standing in front of him. Two were Unda cadets, both from prominent families, while the other was an Igni male. Underneath the heavy cloak, Conway noticed the white robes customary for a royal Healer. At his back, inside the open transport, he felt Kai Edlen’s stubborn surveillance. The Unda Healer, whom Conway brought along on this outing, fretted over the young noble, muttering requests to sit back and _relax._

Yet, Kai remained a stiff and uncooperative patient. 

Conway recognized his relative’s uninhibited adrenaline. Kai wouldn’t succumb to his body’s weaknesses until he knew the prince was safe.

Whatever devoted bond they shared would see to that.  

“He shouldn’t have sent me away,” Bay’s daughter murmured unhappily. She stood the furthest away, her expression petulant as she watched the underground entrance with unblinking eyes. Waiting. Hoping. “I would have been more help than Aiden or Viktor. They’ve done nothing but slack off for several days straight!”

“Micah recognized the weakest links, Talia,” Cain Abital responded neutrally. “You and I are both injured. We were liabilities. It was for the best he sent us with Kai.” 

The Bay girl moved restlessly, securing her arm closely to her chest. Evidently, Abital’s words hadn’t appeased her in the least.

“Prince Ezra knew he wasn’t going to get out of there.”

Upon the unexpected declaration, everyone’s attention turned to the Igni Healer.

“What do you mean by that?” Kai demanded over Conway’s shoulder.

The Igni Healer glanced at them, as if realizing he’d just garnered their attention. He didn’t appear overtly concerned. “You all felt it in the tunnels, didn’t you?” He reached up to adjust his spectacles. “Whatever is underground is far worse than what we’re witnessing now.” He flung out an arm, encompassing the lightning, the fires, and the rain. “And whatever _it_ was,” the Igni continued, “It wanted Ezra, and he knew that. That’s why he sent the wounded and incapable out first.”

Silence.

Then,

“Who _are_ you?”

Conway glanced at Kai from over his shoulder. The boy appeared ghastly and undead. Beside the papery, dehydrated skin, dark shadows clung greedily to the underbelly of his eyes—or in particular—his single eye. The empty socket was grisly-looking, though the boy’s blond bangs covered the majority of it.

A fever glazed over his eye, yet it still possessed a remarkable ability to focus on the Igni Healer with jealous enthusiasm.  

Conway smirked.

Edlens did not share their toys.

“You look familiar,” Kai continued warily without waiting for a reply. “As is that sword you so proudly strap on your back. Do you even know how to wield it?”

The Igni male appeared humbled. “Prince Ezra gave it to me.”

Kai continued staring, his body nearly slumped to the ground of the transport. Small tremors shook his frame, yet he kept a cold, persistent shoulder on the hovering Healer. It wouldn’t be long until he passed out unconscious. “And what of you, cousin?” he accused quietly, now scrutinizing Conway. “The low hanging branch of the Edlen family boasts themselves royalty’s sword and last defense. They would never turn their back on the crown. Not for anything. But you just did. You abandoned him.”

Conway gave him little attention. As a member who inhabited the _low hanging branch_ of the Edlen dynasty _,_ he knew how to properly deal with the others who’d self-proclaimed a perch high at the top of the family tree.

“Do not concern yourself over it,” he replied flippantly. He smirked, knowing he’d incurred the boy’s ire.

“A debt, Egan said,” Kai persisted. “What exactly happened between you two?”

“His Highness will have to fill you in, won’t he?”

Tempted to further pique the boy’s curiosity, only to deny him answers, Conway found his attention immediately refocused on the fires. Without warning, the flames abruptly extinguished across the deserted town. Above, the persistent lightning also faltered and later abandoned the clouds, leaving behind the tenacious rain.

Without fire, without lightning, darkness hovered near the horizon, casting them all in eerie greys and colorless shadow.  

“It’s not really the gods… is it?” one of Conway’s men inquired. He and the others peered up at the sky. “I mean, what is out here? Region 20, of all places. It’s a wasteland.”

“What else would it be? Fire? Rain?”

“So who is the enemy? Agni or Varuna?”

“I don’t imagine either is a friendly ally,” another muttered despondently. “Gods don’t appear out of nowhere and put on elemental wonders for our entertainment. They are quarreling over something we cannot even imagine.”

“I practice religion out of necessity, never really considered myself a _true_ believer, but this…”

Adjusting his footing, Conway reached behind his shoulder and withdrew his sword. He recalled the high priests in Eurus. Their words. Their scorn. Their careful warning to the prince regarding the gods’ displeasure. While Conway had been skeptical at first, the occurrences at the capital had entrenched deep uncertainties. Biracial children dead upon the palace steps? Unnecessarily cruel riots and brawls in the streets of the capital? Noblemen acting out like petulant and immoral children?

_This?_

His uncertainties soon bled way to wary belief.

“You asked what is out here, in Region 20, to cause gods to congregate,” Conway said, earning their thorough attention. “The prince is here.”

Rain slapped persistently against the hard ground, the only sound to cut through the heavy and disbelieving silence. It wasn’t long before the insoluble desert ground turned deep with standing water.

“What could Micah have possibly done to warrant displeasure from the gods?” Bay’s daughter spat indignantly. Her ire focused specifically on Conway for even suggesting their team captain capable of causing pandemonium.

Ever since the prince came out of hiding, Conway imagined he’d caused more upheaval than order. Indeed, Prince Ezra probably caused just as much disorder even before his status was public. Some men were just catalysts for unfortunate events. Some more than others.

As much as he’d like to correct her for addressing the prince so casually, he acknowledged now was not the time. “Sometimes, Bay, one does not need to do anything to incur disinclination. One can simply _exist_ and that is enough _._ ” He motioned to the underground labyrinth. “It’s been too long. Emmett, stay behind with the cadets. Make sure they don’t leave.”

“Yes, captain.”

“If you have even the slightest notion of following me, please consider how much of a detriment you’d be to me, to the prince, and to the other warriors with that wrist.” He looked pointedly into Bay’s tenacious eyes. “In other words, do not follow.”

She turned her cheek.

His boots slapped in the deep puddles as he made his way toward the underground dwelling, his men dutifully following his lead.

Unfortunately, they didn’t get very far.

It started gradually.

The ground beneath their feet trembled. A minor hiccup.

It was enough to give Conway pause, his mind racing in confusion. He looked around wildly as the quaking progressed to disbelieving intensity. Vision swaying, he stumbled awkwardly, nearly losing his balance and his grip on his sword. Suddenly, a distorted, uncanny bellow reverberated across the wastelands and an invisible force knocked Conway cleanly off his feet.

As he landed hard on the ground, he immediately curled into a fetal position. Unexplainable panic caused his limbs to tremble violently. He covered his head, burying his fingers in his hair. Dread gripped him viciously and he screamed loudly in protest until his lungs burned.

He didn’t know how long he huddled there, shuddering like a newborn child. Logic told him he needed to get up. However, his mind was unable to process the fear and his body followed suit, remaining stiff and unmoving. His limbs were heavy with dread, frozen in terror.

Steadily, he peeked through the crook of his arm.

Everyone else was in the same position.

Alive, but huddled to the ground as if such a vulnerable position could protect them from whatever source caused such an unexplainable reaction. The rain barrier he constructed earlier with his Element was no longer in place, leaving him and the others vulnerable to the elements. Closing his eyes against the harsh sting of rain, Conway attempted to move into a sitting position.

Lightheaded, he tried to focus.

Someone was sobbing.

Craning his neck around, Conway spied Kai curled into a ball, trembling and emitting sounds that resembled a desperate, young child. Whatever happened to him here, in this purgatory, Conway realized that it ran deeper than the brutality and ugliness of his face.

Catching Abital’s eyes, Conway motioned toward his distant relative. The boy nodded and struggled to his feet. Despite the uncertainty most likely lingering in his limbs, Abital set that all aside to tend to his teammate. Conway hastily attempted to create the rain barrier again, though it took him three times to succeed. Cloaking it across the others, he finally managed to climb to his feet.

Turning in the direction of the underground dwelling, he was surprised to see figures emerging from the entrance. Not just emerging, he realized, but sprinting as if something were chasing at their heels, their eyes wide, their body language traumatized.

They were members of Lord Josiah’s royal guard.

Yet, no prince.

Conway felt another bout of dread, but this time, it was easy to pinpoint the cause.

 

*** * * ***

 

The laughter was subtle, nearly inaudible.

Far more unnerving than the whispering. 

Josiah stepped next to him, his arm outstretched as he held another sphere of flames aloft. Unsurprisingly, it did not provide much in terms of guidance. Shadows greedily consumed the light as it ventured nearer to the corners of the great hall.

Micah and the others ventured slowly inside, prepared and ready.

Prepared for what, Micah did not know.

A Syphon, yes, but one with strength, one who’d recently consumed a minor god. The Syphon he’d summoned had done enough to unnerve him, even in its weakened state. Judging from the thick, odorous trepidation in the chamber, Micah anticipated this opponent would be far more challenging. Moreover, he did not know how to fight it.

They stood in silence, waiting for the inevitable. The wait was nearly excruciating. Micah kept his senses open, not trusting his vision, but rather his hearing and instincts.

“Micah…” Viktor made a nonsensical sound in his throat. “We’re going to die.”

“Silence,” Josiah hissed.

There was a draft in the underground chamber. Wind whistled through the fissures and the faint sound of trickling water echoed across the massive space. Micah pressed his side against Josiah, feeling the hairs suddenly rise on the back of his neck.

An animalistic screech accompanied a shape as it flew through the darkness. A blade reflected brightly off their flames for a brief second before it plunged through the chest of an unsuspecting Igni warrior. Micah and the others all shifted quickly as a group, but the figure—with his white face and deep, hollow-set eyes— retreated into the shadows. One of the Igni warriors sprinted after him, only to come up emptyhanded as his flames rebounded off the wall and highlighted an empty area.

They all strained their attention to their surroundings while simultaneously staring down at the fallen man.

Besides a few choked gurgles, the man had since fallen still. Next to him, Micah could feel Aiden and Viktor quiver, their attention primarily on searching the darkness encompassing them. Despite the fear radiating off the two military cadets, Micah did not regret making them stay behind to fight. Aiden and Viktor needed a reality check.

A warrior swore loudly.

A loud, sickening crack was enough to draw Micah’s attention away from their surroundings and to the fallen warrior. The corpse stirred, throwing an arm out at an awkward angle and pushing itself upright. Through disbelieving eyes, Micah watched as the man’s neck rotated completely around in his direction, joints popping and cracking unnaturally.

Gradually, the man’s eyelids lifted, revealing nothing but milky white.

The corpse suddenly hissed between crimson-stained teeth before crawling disjointedly into the heavy darkness like a broken-limbed animal.  

Micah stared uncomprehendingly, wondering if this was an elaborate delusion caused by a hallucinogen. If it was, everyone seemed to experience the same effects. Disbelieving curses and murmurings resonated amongst the men, their raving and palpable anger a very thin, flimsy veil to their true fear.

One of the Igni twins roared indignantly and thrust his hand out, sending flames towards his retreating, undead teammate. Only, instead of discovering the dead Igni warrior, there was a hoard of other men standing motionlessly in the shadows, their eyes wide and unblinking as the flames cast them in light.

A moment of stillness passed as both parties observed the other.

“Attack!” Micah roared.

Tired of the endless game of cat and mouse, Micah barged past Viktor and Aiden, taking the lead. He drew back his sword, thrusting the blade toward his first opponent. Anticipating the block, he pivoted underneath the overhead strike and repositioned his blade across the man’s bicep. The edge of his blade sliced the flimsy cloth barrier and proceeded to cut a shallow laceration in the flesh.

As the man subconsciously moved to soften the blow across his arm, his right side became vulnerable. Micah slashed his sword powerfully, instantly beheading the man. Through the spray of crimson, Micah watched as the man’s silver aura flickered rapidly before darkening. There was no red-gold aura representing a god possession.

As far as he could tell, it had just been an ordinary mortal. A human under the thrall of a Syphon, perhaps. Yet, how could he justify the air of tangible uncanniness these people emitted? They couldn’t be human. The undead Igni guard was proof enough of that. However, as far as Micah knew, or at least observed, gods could only possess living mortals.

Not dead ones.

Unless they truly _were_ Noir Users who practiced black magic. Yet, there were no curses cast in Micah’s direction. Nothing but swords as weapons. Over the body of his downed opponent, he also noticed the fire and earth Elementals dueling with the Igni twins.

For a moment, he admired the Elements twisting and coiling around each other with violent concentration, never having been a spectator of such skilled Elementals in battle before. They seemed to possess godly power, for the ground beneath Micah’s feet quaked and the entire chamber trembled with each conjuring. He realized now why fables claimed gods had blessed Elementals. It was a remarkable sight to witness. When he used his Element in battle, he couldn’t possibly get that same awe-inspiring feeling he got when he simply observed.

Of course, there was a downside to using an Element in battle when more than half the enemies used swords. Just across the way, an Igni warrior chased a dodging and sprinting enemy with his Element, not quite able to catch the elusive man. To prevent his Element from burning his comrades, he then had to pull back his Element, extinguishing it, before igniting seconds later as his enemy appeared before him.

The consuming concentration earned him a sword through his back and an immediate execution from the swarming hoard of enemies that got close enough during his _second_ of distraction.

Micah realized that everyone, no matter how skilled, required deep concentration while using their Elements. Elementals were extremely powerful, yet, during battle, their abilities were sometimes a liability. Elemental battles were best suited against a few opponents who were also Elementals. Otherwise, an overwhelming amount of fighters who relied on swords and close combat would often times engulf them.

As if to prove his observation, an earth Elemental collapsed part of the ceiling on top of an Igni warrior. In turn, another Igni man leapt on top the pile of rocks with such surprising speed and agility, the earth Elemental did not see his approach. Swiftly, and with a yell of loss and anger, the Igni man beheaded the distracted Elemental.

Refocusing his attention on his next opponent, Micah noted the man was a far better challenger.

Fitting.

He needed an appropriate outlet for his pent-up anger and frustration.

These men were responsible for Kai’s torture.

He parried and attacked, gritting his teeth as their swords clashed. His arms burned and he pushed his muscles further, feeling pleasure amongst the pain. The man’s sword nicked him across the collarbone, though Micah swiftly leaned away and countered with his own attack to the opponent’s turned cheek.

Trading assaults, Micah appreciated the strength of his enemy.

The man was of Terra descent. Tall, very broad shouldered, and possessing a hulking stature. He easily overwhelmed Micah in terms of physical prowess, forcing the smaller man to rely on his speed to compensate. Micah abruptly switched from his Igni form to his Unda form, causing the man to falter, jarred over the change of rhythm. Trying to buy himself time to recover from the unexpected variation, the man roared and shoved Micah away with a heavy shoulder.

Stumbling, yet managing to stay on his feet, Micah happened to glance over at Aiden and Viktor. The two teamed up, taking turns overwhelming their opponents. Their synchrony appeared unparalleled. Despite the endless arguments, despite their hostility against each other, they were like extensions of the same person as they fought together.

Micah allowed himself a brief moment of pride to surge.

However, they weren’t what Micah focused on. Just to their right, he saw a man stalk the turned back of one of the Igni twins. Preoccupied as the fire Elemental was, he failed to see the raised blade.

Micah reached out, coaxing his stubborn Element to focus on just one opponent.

Grudgingly, the Element adhered to Micah’s whims.

The man lurched forward to attack the oblivious twin, but his sword suddenly stopped within inches of the Igni’s neck, his entire body stiffening. Frozen. Eyes wide, the man could do nothing but stand lifelessly in place. The Igni twin whirled around, no doubt having felt the cold breeze at his back. Upon recognizing the frozen opponent, the Igni guard then turned and sought Micah with his eyes. By the time he spied him, however, Micah’s opponent had already reengaged him in battle.

Micah cursed.

His ice Element remained thrumming at the surface of his skin, obstinately refusing to disappear. It continued to drain his energy, doing nothing worthwhile but lowering the temperature of his surroundings and sprouting random snowflakes with each sword strike. It was like an open, weeping wound. As soon as he used his Element, he had essentially picked open a scab, causing it to ‘bleed’ continuously as it drew energy from him. He’d thought he’d accomplished an _understanding_ with his Element on the way here.

Apparently not.

Forcing himself to calm, Micah chose to accept the Element’s presence, but continued to avoid using it. As soon as he began using it in earnest, he’d truly lose energy. He did not know how long this battle would last, especially when the god eater had yet to make an appearance.  

The man opposite of him detected Micah’s wavering focus and gained the upper hand. With a parry, he dove for Micah’s vulnerable chest. Only, he slipped on a thick sheet of ice. The man’s dark eyes turned entirely white as he stumbled. A cruel, sinful smile crossed his lips, personifying the malevolence adorning the chamber.

Micah brought back his sword.

His enemy blinked again and his silver aura flickered. Eyes were back to normal and a true, confused expression crossed his face. It was almost as if the man had woken from a deep slumber and did not know his surroundings.

Micah drove his sword through his chest without pity. Tugging his blade from the chest cavity, he watched the man fall to the ground. Before Micah could consider what he’d just witnessed, two opponents replaced his fallen adversary, a woman of Eurus descent and a man of Unda descent. Taking a step back, Micah twirled his sword around to reposition his grip.

Another body suddenly saddled up next to him.

Glancing over his shoulder, he caught Josiah’s eyes.

The man inclined his head. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Your skills may be a bit rusty without a god pulling your strings.”

Josiah smiled cruelly. “We shall see, Nephew.” He looked pointedly at the large snowflakes falling serenely around Micah. “Having troubles with your Element again, I see.”

Micah ignored him as he turned and engaged the woman in battle. Two more opponents, who clearly were not Elementals, promptly joined their comrades, forcing Micah and Josiah to work together against all four.

As much as Micah hated to admit it, it was a natural pair.

Dare he say just as synchronized as his partnership with Kai? Even without Agni, Josiah knew Micah’s style of combat as well as he knew his own. Locked inside his own body as a mere spectator, Josiah most likely watched Micah’s combating intensively throughout their time together. What else would a bored Igni prince, who excelled in swordsmanship, do with his time?

Even as Micah switched between his Igni and Unda form, a contrast between aggressive and tranquil, Josiah knew when it was an opportune time to interject with his own attacks. He allowed Micah to take the lead, never too far behind with an aggressive continuation.

They looped around each other, chasing the other around their opponents.

It was exhilarating.

This cat and mouse with his blood-uncle.

His adrenaline spiked as he rotated around Josiah, slamming the hilt of his sword into his unsuspecting opponent’s stomach. He then tossed his blade up and shaved the man’s vulnerable throat with his blade.

A lethal drop. He’d bleed out within a few minutes.

Josiah nudged Micah, pushing their backs together as he dueled two opponents. Taking it as a nonverbal request for assistance, Micah abruptly ducked, spinning back around and joining in the fray. He easily took down his opponent by decapitation from behind, figuring it was the safer way to eliminate these particular enemies. While it required a surprising amount of strength to execute someone by decapitation, Micah realized he had enough anger and bloodlust to accomplish the task.

As soon as Josiah beheaded his own adversary, their eyes met once again amongst the corpses of their fallen enemies. Micah found himself mirroring Josiah’s bloodlust grin, admiring the bright, orange eyes.

High on battle.

Ironic that Josiah, given that he was such a skilled Elemental, would prefer to use the sword. It was a more intimate kill, Micah supposed. More thrilling. Evidently, the sword was also Josiah’s namesake. “There he is,” Micah crooned victoriously. “That young prince who fought for his kingdom. He was there all this time under that burning self-blame of losing a war.”

Josiah’s grin faltered, and yet, something changed in his gaze.

Confidence? Acceptance?

Without warning, rocks came loose and tumbled from the chamber’s ceiling, spilling not only dangerous debris, but also an abundance of water from above ground. It splashed noisily as it hit the chamber, flooding the ground with at least two feet of standing water.

Micah raised his arm, bracing himself just in case there were more falling rocks.

When he was sure the danger had passed, he turned and observed the situation. No more enemies came rushing from the darkness. It was abnormally calm. Quiet. Sparse flames shed light across the fallen bodies and the scattered debris. Micah wadded through the water, first looking to his team, nodding with approval when he saw them both standing unharmed.

Aiden and Viktor nodded mutely back, appearing exhausted but drunk off their victories. Micah was sure their relationship would change after this, after facing the unknown together.

“How many have we lost?” Micah’s words reverberated across the empty, dark chamber, easily drowning out the trickling water.

“Four men.”

He vaguely made out the Igni twins in the distance. “Josiah can you—” he abruptly stopped short when the chamber began to tremble violently once again. Rock started to fall in earnest. “Everyone get out! Run!”

Raising his arm, he covered his head and ran, knowing his arm would do little to protect his skull against a falling boulder. Above, heavy water suddenly cascaded down on top of him, sending him to the ground.

He gasped, struggling for air.

Water encompassed him from all angles, seemingly taking on a life of its own as it tugged and pulled at his lithe figure. Fear nearly left him paralyzed. Drowning. It was one of his biggest fears. To be in the mercy of turbulent waters without any sort of control or power. He groped blindly, trying to grab anything to steady himself, yet his fingers found nothing but whirling water.

A hand grabbed his wrist in a bone-breaking grip. Whomever it was that tried to pull him from the water’s current simply fell victim alongside him. They could have released him. Micah knew this wasn’t coincidental. After the team showed such resistance against their enemies, his isolation was imperative. Nonetheless, as the water deepened and the current strengthened, the hand remained a stubborn anchor. Closing his eyes against the dizzying water current, Micah felt the ground open up beneath him.

And then he was freefalling.

His eyes sprang open.

He saw nothing but _black._

A cry left his lips before a large body of water broke his fall. Once again, he submerged into the depths of water, only this time, the water was serenely still and ice cold. Shame warmed his face as his descent slowed.

He’d almost called out for Agni. 

How mortifying would it have been? _Please, Agni, leave your battle with Dushyanta and Varuna to protect me from an underground lake._

The blurry form of Josiah gradually took shape opposite of him. Micah allowed himself a moment of surprise over his attempted rescuer’s identity. He hadn’t thought the broken man possessed the resolution to go after him with such blind determination. Still joined at the hands, Micah kicked, pulling them both up towards the surface. Or, at least he hoped it was the surface. While it was difficult to distinguish from underground, small fires appeared to hail them from above, luring them to a safe haven.

His limbs grew heavy, hardening with the temperature of the water. Such a silly thing to complain about, he thought irritably. He was an _ice Elemental,_ for Agni’s sake!

This mind-numbing cold should be gratifying.

With one last kick, he broke the surface, inhaling greedily. He pulled Josiah up alongside him, grateful to hear the man splutter and inhale. He was terrible at swimming, could barely stay afloat, yet he possessed enough determination to save their lives.

“You’re an idiot,” Micah rasped.

“And you’re foolishly prone to falling into danger,” Josiah retorted, just as exhausted.

With one look around their shady surroundings, Micah realized they really had fallen into a deep, underground lake. Fortunately, they hadn’t hit any rock formations during the fall. Above, Micah distinguished massive, jagged rocks hanging low and jutting unevenly. It was a large cave, impressive in its splendor, yet exceedingly unnerving. The feeling he’d felt above could hardly compare to the dripping, sadistic terror that currently encompassed them.

They swam in the black lake, slowly approaching a rocky shore.

Torches lit their way, creating misshapen shadows across the jagged rock walls. 

“You know what we’re swimming towards, don’t you?” Josiah did not need to hint further. “Perhaps it’s time we call _him_.”

Micah did not respond. Calling Agni would lure the god straight into the Syphon’s open jaws. The fire god warned Micah not to underestimate him, yet he was already busy with two gods above ground. Micah did not particularly care to pull him away until he was ready.

They reached the surface and Micah forced himself to let go of Josiah.

Struggling, they both managed to pull themselves onto the rocky ground, their limbs heavy, sore, and abnormally cold. Their clothes weighed them down. Through wet strands of hair, Josiah eyed Micah before reaching over and curling his hand around his calf. Before Micah could inform his uncle that it would not work with his immunity, warmth danced up and down his body, chasing away the frost and the heaviness.

Micah stared at the glowing red hand. He wanted to protest against his uncle’s assistance, yet it felt so _good._

It had to be black magic. Some sort of heating spell.

“Look at you two bond. Precious.”

The familiar, soft voice caressed his ears, sparking a clear and painful nostalgia. Fondness. Cruelness. The recognition brought with it a plethora of feelings he struggled to understand and swallow.

Josiah was the first to react.

Ripping his hand from Micah’s leg, and taking the heat with him, Josiah scrambled to his feet. The man’s hand tensed, fingers straining apart and flexing into claws. Flames licked his entire palm and slithered to the tips of his gloved fingers. Micah watched him through numb eyes before gradually turning to look himself.

His neck craned as he stared up at her.

Even after all this time apart, seeing her left him feeling debilitated.

Ember crouched down, earning a warning shift from Josiah. She paid her brother no heed as she gazed at Micah’s upturned face, a small smile twisting her lips. His mind immediately warped, frozen with the implications. When the merchant back in town claimed Kai disappeared with his mother, it had struck him as odd. How had his mother fit into all this?

He never thought…

Shadows veiled the scarred flesh on her face, yet her milky, white eye seemed to glow just as brilliantly as her amber eye. The white eye reminded him of the animated corpse above, in the chamber. It reminded him of his opponent right before he’d impaled the man’s chest.

_Syphon._

_Daemons._

His pulse raced desperately. This was not his mother.

“Release your hold over her,” Micah commanded.

“Why?” Ember— _It—_ crooned. She remained crouched, watching in mirth as Micah stood. “You never did display much affection for her. Though I can’t say that I blame you.”

She bowed her head then, a mockery of a bashful gesture. Raising a painfully slender hand, she pushed her long hair over her shoulder, a habit Ember frequently practiced. The black, unruly waves slid down her back, vividly reminding him of the times he’d watched her carefully brush her hair. His attention then landed on her hand. Rotted flesh claimed the majority of the fingers. Black. Gruesome.

Micah stared with incredulity and unease. Was this what possession of a Syphon did to their vessel? Or did it mean something far worse? How long had Ember been possessed? Since the Syphon’s consumption of Kapardi, the god assigned to watch over Micah in his mother’s skin? He couldn’t fathom what Ember had gone through these past several years.

Years upon years of being bound by another. Possessed by another. Controlled by another.

Despite the rotting hand and painfully thin frame, Ember appeared relatively unharmed.

However, something was _not right._ He knew. He could feel it.

“After all, the majority of the time, you never did interact much with your real mother.” She looked coyly up at him, the innocent guise ruined by the glowing, unkind eye. “But rather Agni’s pawn. Not quite the bonding required for a mother and her child.”

Unfolding from the ground, she stood at her full height, just a hairbreadth below Micah’s shoulder. As if it took a great deal of restraint, she pulled her gaze away from him. “It appears as if Agni has several pawns in the royal family.” She levelled Josiah with an amused look. “All wound up and programmed to bend to his will.”

The Syphon emitted a noticeable aura of disquiet, yet it wasn’t as prominent as he imagined it should be. Was the entity muffling it, choosing to underwhelm Micah and Josiah rather than forcing them to go through mind-numbing horror?

It just proved how powerful the Syphon was. To be able to shield itself and control its aura.

“Who are you?” Micah hedged carefully. “Syphon’s have names, don’t they?”

A slow, distorted laugh sounded from her mouth.

He could not discern if it was male or female.

“You may call me Yama.”

Familiarity itched at the back of Micah’s mind upon hearing the name. He could not pinpoint it, yet it was significant. Fables of a time long ago. Fables that had died over time, becoming insignificant to the four, true gods of the kingdoms. Josiah seemed to recognize it, however, for the man tensed and moved closer to Micah.

“Your dislike for Agni is loud and clear,” Micah commented, showing far more bravado than he felt. He smiled unkindly as cold water dripped down his face and snaked between his eyes. “Luring us here. Carefully planning your bait. Unfortunately for you, I don’t think you are even capable of being much of a threat against Agni.”

Something amused Yama greatly.

“Poor thing,” it—he? — purred. “You have so much to learn.” Cloaked in a heavy, black robe, shadows greedily clung to the entity as he took a step back and then another. Micah found it difficult to look away from the milky eye, knowing the uneasiness it made him feel would continue to haunt him relentlessly. “I don’t want Agni. At least not yet.”

Barely distinguishable shapes appeared behind Yama. Distinguishable in the sense that they appeared half-human, half-shapeless, all intangible and shadow-like. Faint, broken words touched Micah’s senses, setting him on edge. Unlike the indiscernible tenor he got in the great hall above, he was now able to distinguish the desperation from those whispers. The feelings of despair, of misery.

Of eternal suffering.

“You’re the one we wanted to lure here. Ezra.”

“Why?” Micah demanded. “I’m a mere mortal.”

“You are _merely_ a fool if you think that’s the case,” Yama retorted, his tone turning sharp and vicious. “You were created for a purpose. And not just for Agni’s benefit. Why do you believe all the gods are against your very existence? They whisper about the possibilities your existence could mean to them, so they tread carefully and watch from a distance. Others, like Prithvi, Vayu, and Varuna, all know what it is you represent, and Dushyanta actively seeks to destroy you. The god of enmity, the _destroyer of evil._ But what is it about you that makes you evil? Evil enough to encourage Dushyanta to act by himself against one of the most powerful gods in existence?”

Curiosity dug its claws into Micah. “Because I woke a sleeping god eater.”

The Syphon jeered. “ _How_?” it barked out impatiently.

Micah flinched as the cave rebounded the demand back at him from all directions. _How_? He’d already asked Agni that very same question. The god claimed he was so close to Micah that the Syphon and the ritual mistook him for a demigod. Clearly, Yama expected a different answer. Did it have something to do with becoming a deity himself?

At his stubborn silence, the Syphon glided forward. “Perhaps it is best if I _show_ you.”

“ _Agni_!”

It was not Micah who called out for the fire god, but rather Josiah.

Torn between applauding and cursing the man’s decision, Micah felt the ground shudder wildly. He wanted answers, answers Agni seemed to deny him whether out of spite or means to protect him. On the other hand, Micah would be an idiot to overlook the sinister overtures of Yama’s intentions. Getting answers would not be worth whatever the entity had planned.

From the corner of his eye, a pale figure moved in the shadows.

Turning, Micah observed the pale, cracked face of the other Syphon—the one who followed him like a lost child. The entity caught Micha’s eye and smiled lavishly before disappearing into the cavern floor, his image flickering weakly as he went.

As if Agni were a bloodhound, capable of heeding a call from worlds away, the god found his way into the cavern. The force in which he entered nearly knocked Micah off his feet.

This wasn’t good. Two god eaters in such tight confinements. Micah moved, shifted out of unease. He watched the blur of red-gold blast into the cave with another aura followed closely behind. Should he shout out in warning? No, Agni could handle himself. The fire god shouldn’t have to rely on a mortal to exercise precaution. The man was better than that.

Had to be better than that.

The two forms dove, twisting around each other in flames of red and gold, entwining and quarreling. Eventually, they approached the area the Syphon lingered. One of the auras slowed and solidified. Morbidly fascinated, Micah watched as Dushyanta’s crooked eyes drifted away from Agni and swung onto him as if _captivated._

Dushyanta lunged towards Micah.

Only, a hulking and dark shape abruptly exploded from the ground. Inky, black tendrils wrapped themselves greedily around Dushyanta, holding him in place. An inhuman wail blasted through the chamber as Dushyanta struggled, his blue skin and ugly façade transforming into more human-like, terrified features.

Through wide, disbelieving eyes, Micah observed the dark shadow as it morphed into a pair of jaws equipped with sharp, elongated teeth.

His disbelief fell way to dark, wicked anticipation.

_Oh, yes._

The possessed Ember turned hurriedly and shouted something to Micah, appearing almost fraught. From the corner of his eye, he also noted Josiah stumbling from the force of Agni’s hurried possession.

Micah couldn’t look away.

Entrapped. Hungry. So very eager.

They deserved to consume, to eat.

Pupil’s dilating, he watched Dushyanta struggle like an insect stuck in death’s clutch. The black shadow nearly overtook him. The horror Dushyanta felt—Micah felt too. The cave seemed to pulsate with a frantic, desperate pulse, conveying the unbridled fear of a dying entity. Everyone in proximity would feel the passing.

One last effort of revenge on Dushyanta’s part.

Black stained Dushyanta’s figure and a sharp, dying wail ripped from his lungs. It was so loud, it grated against Micah’s eardrums and jumbled his mind. Arms wrapped around Micah and a hand forced his head against a strong chest. Warmth engulfed him, yet it could do nothing to stop the wave of tangible devastation as it blasted Micah and his savior off their feet.

Micah’s jaw dropped and he screamed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will say this before everyone gets in a tizzy once we reveal *who* Yama is: Agni and Yama were *never* lovers nor anywhere close to it =)
> 
>  **Edit:** It may have been a bit unclear to some readers, but the Syphon Micah conjured those many weeks ago consumed Dushyanta (the blackness/shadow consuming him). Sorry if I wasn't clear enough on that! *sweat drop*


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

**27\. Chapter Twenty-Seven**

 

The newborn was no longer than his forearm.

A tiny thing. Just days old.

Five days, to be exact.

He’d waited nine months to see it in the flesh, now it was here, a bundle of soft, healthy skin and a thrumming, developing heart. Less bloody and far more endearing than when it took its first, wailing gasp of air five days ago. Cupping the baby in his large palm, he held it aloft, analyzing the petite features. Long lashes. A wild tuft of black hair. An elfin nose and tiny ears. Soft. _Breakable_. He could curl his fingers into a fist and easily crush the newborn until its delicate ribs closed in around its organs. Death would be quick.

His fingers tightened out of morbid curiosity, smiling as the newborn squirmed and emitted a sound of displeasure.

No.

His fingers loosened before the midwife overheard. He’d observed newborn mortals before. Several before as their parents sought for his blessings. Never did he feel any sort of gentle affection for them. They were, after all, mere offspring of their adult counterpart. Cattle. Yet, as he held this particular bundle aloft, he marveled at such a phenomenon. Such a small body.

So tiny, so clueless to its true and destined potential.

Utterly innocent and pure.

His fingers supported the fragile neck and he brought the bundle closer to his chest. Grateful for the palpable heat his body produced, the newborn buried closer to the embrace. Blue eyes blinked lazily up at him, compliant and content.

A small, genuine smile curled his lips as he gazed down at the child.

_His child._

Something warm and repulsively affectionate pulled at his chest. He didn’t want to grow emotionally attached, yet what harm would it cause to offer comfort to his counterpart as a newborn? The child would never remember, never taunt him for it.

Reaching out, he caressed the newborn’s cheek. The baby reached out suddenly, curling tiny fingers around his own finger with surprising strength. He regarded the ridiculously small fingers and the puckered dimples above the nonexistent knuckles. For once, he could find no scorn for dotting parents who grew enamored with their newborn child.  

“I will protect you, my child,” he promised. “Even after you can handle yourself, I will protect you. And someday, perhaps we can protect each other.”

“But the great Agni would never need protection.”

He frowned down at the child, irritation replacing the warm regard. Detangling his finger from the newborn’s clutch, he deposited the babe gently back in its bassinet. It whimpered at the lost heat until Agni covered its belly with a heated palm. In turn, the newborn closed its eyes, surrendering to a warm, comforting slumber.

“I had to see if your creation was everything I requested.”

She made a noise of hilarity. “You’re a few decades too early if that’s what you’re here for, Agni.”

“On the contrary,” he replied distantly, gazing down at his child. “I’m just in time.”

“So you are.” She sounded strained. “Staying close by is imperative for this child. Even so, I do not appreciate your doubts. I heeded your requests. If he does not meet your expectations, then that is your own doing.”

“You create. I mold,” he surmised softly.

His eyes closed for a moment in sadistic amusement, finding it _glorious._ She was far too predictable, wasn’t she? Easily maneuvered. Easily preyed upon. He removed his hand from his child and turned to gaze at her.

“You requested a male counterpart, equal in physical beauty, intelligence, and power. Do you remember your words to me?”

“Of course I remember,” Agni replied irately. “I didn’t want a clone.”

“You said he needs to be cruel when the situation warrants, but he needs to possess affection and loyalty.” She smiled mysteriously, as if secretly amused with his request. “You didn’t want him to fear you, but strive to be better in order to match your ferocity.”

“And you created all that in this bundle of small limbs.”

“It’s all there.” Her attention dropped to the sleeping newborn. “I will be greatly interested to see if you can harness the necessary patience to make those abilities flourish.”

“You don’t believe I can succeed.”

“I only know you to be ill-tempered and impatient, as appropriate for the fire lord.” She turned her back on him. “A newborn soul will most certainly test that patience. You push too far, too quickly, and you will undoubtedly stifle and _extinguish_ him. You only have one opportunity at this, Agni. There will not be another if you shall fail.”

Agni found it unnecessary to respond. He watched as her form disappeared, leaving him alone with the slumbering child. A conniving smile briefly flittered across his mouth before he forced it away. Turning back to the child, he admired the healthy glow across its cheeks. He leaned down, breathing across the crown of the newborn’s head.

“Bless you, Ezra Zale Talise.”  

His lips pressed assertively across the skin, washing the newborn with warmth and blessing.

Yes, the boy was certainly destined for great things.

No matter the long road ahead, Agni could hardly wait.

 

*** * * ***

 

Dimly, he realized he’d screamed himself hoarse and blacked out long enough that he could not remember how he got into his current position. Uncontrollable tremors plagued his body and he could do little to stop them. In the back of his mind, he was aware of someone carrying him through confined passageways, passageways that trembled fiercer than his exhausted limbs.

The entire underground was caving in, he discerned. In the very near distance, he could hear crumbling rocks, their roars loud and eerie.

Thick, warm liquid poured from his nose and ears. With a sluggish hand, his fingers groped at the substance knowing it to be blood. As he moved his hand, a heavy, very real pain resonated from his chest. As his consciousness sharpened, he realized the gold rune around his neck radiated a dying heat. Underneath his clothes, his skin burned around the metal, leading Micah to believe the rune had exerted itself beyond its capability and burned into his flesh. 

Clearly, no mortal should have survived witnessing the consumption of a god. Or near consumption of a god, in Micah’s case. Fortunately, he not only had a rune, but another god who’d sheltered the brunt of the impact.

His eyes rolled up, surveying his surroundings.

Josiah carried him, only this time, Micah knew it was not his uncle. “Let me down.”

Agni barely paid him much heed as he hurried through the tunnels. “It’s faster this way. Unless you want to be buried alive, I suggest you swallow your pride.”

“The Syphon—”

“Which one?”

Micah licked his lips, tasting the blood and coating his tongue with it. He remembered Dushyanta. He remembered the Syphon erupting from the ground and consuming the enemy whole with his shadowy reach. “Both of them.” He paused heavily. “My mother.”

“She vanished. As did your pet Syphon after consuming Dushyanta. It was vital we evacuate before being caved in.” Something pulled at Josiah’s expression, a darkness Micah could not discern. “I imagine the Syphon possessing your mother enjoys its vessel, as it holds an emotional advantage over you. She would not risk staying behind and getting crushed.”

 _Emotional advantage_.

Torn between scoffing at the derisive observance and silently sulking over Agni’s correct deduction, Micah chose to focus his efforts on escaping the overprotective arms. A noise of exasperation escaped from Agni as he all but dropped Micah to the ground. Landing on his feet, though not as graceful as he preferred, Micah gathered his bearings and hurriedly followed Josiah through the cave.

It was almost anticlimactic.

Almost shocking at how fortunate they were.

They’d saved Kai, who, in turn, appeared relatively unharmed and sane. Dushyanta wasn’t just injured and forced to flee, but he’d _died._ The Syphons both retreated before the tunnels caved in. Yama retreated because he didn’t want Ember, his vessel, to be destroyed in the collapse. The unnamed Syphon, who’d undoubtedly just grown more powerful, retreated because he never showed an interest in harming Micah.

Could it really be that easy?

Agni was unharmed. His team was unharmed. Micah was unharmed, yet frustrated his questions remained unanswered and only piqued. Yama, however, seemed like a tenacious individual. It was hard to believe he’d let a mere cave-in deter his efforts to speak to Micah. The Syphon claimed he’d wanted to lure Micah to Region 20, not Agni. He’d seemed persistent to show Micah something.

The entire cave suddenly rumbled, jolting Micah awkwardly and bringing attention to the true danger of the situation.

In the past, the Igni Empire experienced several failed attempts at constructing dwellings underground before they excelled at the skill. They weren’t earth Elementals, after all, but rather desperate civilians searching for a way to escape the heat. There’d been accounts of underground structures collapsing and killing hundreds. Some made it out in time, and those fortunate individuals claimed they’d lived through a god’s unbound fury, for only a god could make the ground tremor so violently. 

It was partially true, he supposed. A god had caused _this_.

Or, at least the after effects of a god’s death.

While Agni’s smothering presence had protected Micah from the brunt of Dushyanta’s death, he would never forget the bone-chilling devastation that paralyzed his mind and body.

Micah stumbled, catching himself against the wall of the cave. Agni offered him a slow, unimpressed look over his shoulder before leaving him to catch up. He paid Micah little mind as he strutted down the cavern corridors, appearing confident in his ability to make it out in one piece.

“His name was Yama,” Micah said, his words a bit breathless from overexertion.

“Or so he claims.”

That caught Micah off guard. He jogged at Josiah’s back. “Meaning?”

“Yama is dead.” There was no room for argument in Agni’s tone. It was certain. Final. “Forever extinct. Do not ever doubt me on this, Ezra.”

Rock fell from the ceiling and Micah and Agni quickened their pace. They sprinted through the winding halls of the structure, making it past the chamber from earlier and encountering the flooded passageways. Micah spared the chamber little attention as he pushed himself through the knee-deep water. Everyone would have made it out alive. He refused to look for corpses.

The water churned around them, as if vexed.

Micah eyed it warily.

“You said you felt it when the Syphon consumed Kapardi.” He nearly spat the name, still peeved that his mother was subjected to so many possessions, so much mind control. “Do you believe Varuna felt it when Dushyanta passed?”

“I felt Kapardi pass because we were in contact with each other often. Not many would have felt his passing. Compared to Dushyanta, he was an exceptionally minor god.”

“I thought Dushyanta was a minor god.”

Agni brightened the halls by increasing the amount of flames skirting the top of the water. He hadn’t even needed to gesture. The fire bent over backward to appease its lord’s every silent whim. Micah tempered his envy as Agni replied to his inquiry.

“Dushyanta was not one of the four major gods, child, but he was remarkably powerful. He represented enmity. A sentiment every mortal can understand. Every time they expressed such an emotion, Dushyanta grew more powerful. Even the mortals outside would have felt his passing. Would Varuna have felt his passing? Would the other gods? Most certainly.”

Micah frowned, never realizing it worked that way. Mortals did not need to worship a god to make them stronger. Instead, they could give strength to entities by experiencing the sentiment that a particular god or goddess represented. He imagined Agni and his siblings were all powerful in their own right, not only because mortals actively worshipped them, but also because their elements were used every day.

Just how many gods and goddesses were there? Beck, the Noir User guru, suggested there was a god that represented everything, whether it be envy or lust. War or famine. Disease. Micah couldn’t imagine the god realm being anything but rich and complex in culture. It had to be grandiose. Unconceivable to his mortal imagination.

“They will not take his death lightly...”

Agni chose not to respond.

If he sensed Varuna’s nearing presence, he did not draw attention to it. Micah knew, though, and he remained vigilant.

Eventually, after wading through knee and waist-deep water, they finally escaped the underground unscathed. In the distance, he observed a much larger transport settled just beyond the one his team used to reach the abandoned town. Figures roamed outside the shuttle, appearing like frantic beetles. 

Escaping the knee-deep waters was hardly a consolation to the harsh and heavy rain outside.

As they made their way toward the transport, assumingly out of danger, Micah surveyed his companion. The man, as always, was closed off and impassive. Aside from the visible displeasure shrouding him, Agni kept tight control over his expressions. He did not seem bothered by the prospect of a ‘Yama’. He did not seem upset that Micah had been so close to finding out a revelation. He didn’t even appear to have the decency to be concerned over the consequences of Dushyanta’s death.

Micah felt his own displeasure seed and grow. “You’ve been keeping things from me again.” His words cut sharply through the remorseless rain. “I question whether they are blatant lies or omissions of the truth.”

“I don’t imagine you would be pleased with one over the other.”

“My displeasure would hardly cause you much distress, anyway.” Micah twisted his lips in a mockery of a smile. “Everything you’ve done displeases me. From what you did to my mother to the things you hide from me. But you continue to do them regardless. These things crop up. New things. I accept one truth, but realize there are several more underneath them.”

Micah stopped, squinting at Josiah’s back.

While the omissions of truth and lies bothered him, they weren’t the real source of his fury, he suddenly realized. Not really. Playing the game of unearthing schemes was entertaining just as it was expected. He did not particularly entertain the idea of a forthcoming and wholly honest Agni. It did not conjure itself.

No, what bothered him was his sudden realization of worth.

Or there lack of.

He knew it before. Acknowledged it before. But never before did he _feel_ so worthless and insignificant. The power dynamic in their relationship was skewered and it seemed especially prevalent during situations like these. Micah recoiled over his ineptness when he compared himself to Agni. It was not a feeling he was accustomed to, at least in comparison to other mortals.

He didn’t know if his sudden anger and hopelessness really centered on Agni, or if it was other factors igniting his hostility.

His mother.

Kai.

His destiny.

Politics.

Gods in general.

Nonetheless, Agni was the scapegoat.

Standing underneath the downpour of rain, he felt a disheartened and depressed feeling settle in his chest. “I’m just a toy to you, aren’t I?” he demanded through the rain. His hair flattened in his face and dripped into his eyes as he leveled the man with a furious look. “You have these grandiose plans for me, plans that only benefit you. You couldn’t care a less how I feel, just as long as you continue yanking me to the appropriate position at the right time.”

That got Agni to stop.

Slowly, the Igni turned, his gaze chilling.

Blood-orange bled through Josiah’s gaze, catching and holding Micah’s complete and utter regard. “Why do you think I don’t reveal everything to you at once?” the man inquired sharply. “It’s because I know what you can handle and when. Because I _am_ taking into account how you would _feel_. You mean a great deal to me. More so than any _toy_.”

Micah scowled, feeling a dark emotion claw its way up his chest and up his throat. The entity’s declaration made him feel revulsion, anticipation, and desire. Feeling all those emotions — _over an admission that was probably not even true_ — made Micah livid. Coupled with his confusion over their current situation and the insinuations of what was to come, Micah felt himself spiral.

“Sometimes I hate you.”

Agni cocked his head to the side, observing Micah intensely. “Hate is a very strong emotion. A very _passionate_ emotion.” The entity straightened. “Forgive me, but your hatred doesn’t cut me as deeply as it would if you felt nothing at all.”

About to retort, he noticed Agni’s attention hone in the distance, far above Micah’s head. Turning to see what garnered the man’s attention, Micah stared uncomprehendingly at the towering wall, realizing it was moving at an alarming rate. It took him several seconds of confusion to identify it as a wall of water.

More appropriately, a tidal wave.

It reached high up to the sky, shielding the sun that already struggled to shed its light through heavy rainclouds.

Moreover, it was as wide as it was tall.

Suddenly, the rain stopped. Micah’s eyes crossed as he watched the falling raindrops halt abruptly, as if defying logic and time. Rather abruptly, they reversed direction as they climbed back up to the heavens. When there was no longer any rain in the atmosphere, the water from the flooded desert terrain began to lift from the ground and race up just as well.

Micah could feel the wetness in his boots and clothes begin to disintegrate as it lifted from his person and began the trek back to its original domain. When his hair and clothes were dry, he felt a static in the air. A sharp, painful shock of dryness.

He stared in marvel.

There was no question the tidal wave would finish abolishing the war-weary ghost town and everything in its path.

Including the fragile little mortals.

When Micah finally got his shock and astonishment under control, he turned his heel and sprinted toward the transport. “Get into the transport!” he demanded, his scream irritating his abused vocal chords.

They ran to meet him, clearly having identified the wave. Their wide eyes stared at it stupidly, as if it was something to admire, not fear. “It’s not working,” Conway Edlen proclaimed. He wiped a frustrated hand across his face and then angrily motioned toward the approaching water. “Our water Elements.” The man sounded strained—naked without his power.

Which was only natural.

Micah didn’t even have time to wonder at the wicked power gods possessed over the mortals they’d blessed. He’d experienced the same situation in battle when Agni had abruptly removed a fire Elemental’s ability of conjuring fire. He just hadn’t realized the insinuations at the time. “Do you really think Varuna would give you the weapons to thwart him?” Upon Micah’s rancorous inquiry, Conway paled and accompanied him back to the transport. Micah motioned for the others milling about to get _inside._ “Get inside!” he ordered again, frustrated.

His teammates all stared at him with unease. Kai appeared undead, still unattended for, and still sickly and sweaty with a fever. Micah did not have time to reprimand him when he was busy reprimanding all of the others for not moving quick enough.

They scrambled inside the transport and Micah turned, nearly running into Josiah.

“You can’t do anything about this, can you?”

Agni gazed at the nearing wave with an expression of calm guile. “I imagine something solid would be more appropriate in this situation. Don’t you agree?”

The words hadn’t even left his mouth as Micah pushed past him. Evidently, Agni had the same idea as he did, and the entity didn’t appear remotely apprehensive about Micah’s ability to perform.

He positioned himself underneath the curling tendril of the collapsing wave.

A moment, he floundered.

The feelings of oppression overwhelmed him as he stared up at the massive wave, reminded of his stance as a lone mortal facing off against a powerful entity. It should have made him feel lost and powerless. Yet, it only served to fuel him. How _dare_ gods treat mortals as if they were insignificant insects, existing for their sole amusement and destruction. Convenient one day, disposable the next.

His rage was cold until it was not.

The only other times he’d conjured his Element without experiencing the cold backlash was on the train to the Eurus Empire under Agni’s tutelage and again when the Syphon possessed him. During those times, his skin hadn’t froze, his breath hadn’t turned visible, yet the ice had claimed his surroundings. He remembered feeling connected with his impulsive Element.

Just as he did now.

Wind howled in his ears, drowning out someone shouting for him back in the transport. The dry atmosphere suddenly peppered with large flakes of snow that whirled around his feet and hit his upturned face with haughty bloodlust.

_More._

_More!_

Eager to be free of its binding manacles, his Element blanketed their surroundings, filling the air with an unsatisfied static and a flurry of agitated snowflakes. No enemy in sight just yet, but Micah kept his attention on the collapsing wave, reassuring the Element it would have a formidable opponent within seconds.

The knowledge that the tidal wave could kill him upon impact only encouraged Micah’s gleeful adrenaline. He raised his arms as the tendril curled over them and promptly fell. Watching the descent until it reached a critical level, Micah threw down his arms with a delirious shout. Power exploded from the ground and surged through his body, soaring high into the air to meet the crushing water. The downpour slammed into an invisible barrier that stretched over Micah and the transport carrying his team and the royal guards.

He laughed.

An audible, bone-chilling groan resonated throughout the air as water thickened and turned into an unyielding, frozen solid. Some water trickled past the barrier, but froze into a rigid and uneven icicle during its descent.

It took Micah quite some time to realize that he was not the one laughing.

Agni was.

Every bit sadistic and forbidding, the laugh hardly represented light-hearted amusement. It reflected a similar chord within Micah, one he couldn’t help mirroring. He revered in Agni’s delight, a certain warmth alighting in his chest. Whatever qualms they had before had abruptly dissipated. The entity stood at his shoulder, offering his support, but distant enough to acknowledge Micah was acting entirely on his own.

Breathing heavily as if he’d just exerted himself physically, Micah glanced over his shoulder. Before his Element, he’d never experienced snow. He’d only read about the accounts of Concordia’s distant mountains and their snow-covered peaks. He imagined those mountains would resemble their current surroundings.

Snow blanketed the desert ground while a frigid frost and fog claimed the air. Thick and dangerous-looking icicles obscured his view to the transport, which remained untouched from Varuna’s attack. Above, the ice ceiling buckled low, its sheer veneer revealing unfrozen water churning angrily above the barrier. Evidently, his power hadn’t been enough to freeze Varuna’s entire attack, but only a portion.

They were inside their own misshapen bubble of ice.

“You’ve deceived me about the boy, Agni.”

The voice was just as time-weary as it was distant and soft. Micah looked to Agni, finding the man smiling vindictively back at him.

Proud.

_Hungry._

“Varuna?” Micah murmured quietly in question, already knowing the answer.

He felt the weight of eyes on him, heavy in both skepticism and wariness. If he imagined hard enough, he could see a face emerge from the other side of his ice barrier. Chiseled features were just as sharp as the rigid ice, making it difficult to discern. What stood out were the blue eyes.

What did one say to an age-old entity determined to kill him? _Better luck next time?_ No, he chastised himself. If Varuna wanted to kill him, Micah had no silly notion that the water god would not succeed. Why else would the entity be standing so passively on the other side of the ice barrier after the first failed attack? The god wanted to show his displeasure, he’d wanted to test Micah’s strength. There was no doubt he could kill Micah if he continued an assault.

Yet, he did not.

Micah kept his stance proud, his eyes tenacious under Varuna’s quiet and intense observance.

“You will fight furiously in order to survive, young one, not realizing what you’re fighting for is a damnation. A very long, dark road looms ahead of you,” the entity murmured. “Perhaps I was just trying to put you out of your misery before you truly suffered.”

“A merciful and generous god,” Micah replied disparagingly. “Maybe next time you can avoid granting such generosity upon the mortals in my proximity.”

The blue eyes considered him before focusing on Agni.  “You knew what he was,” Varuna whispered. “All this time…”

“It has been a recent speculation,” Agni answered tersely, elusively. “Nothing is determined yet. We cannot be so certain.”

“Yet you will continue to plant your seed.”

“Speculation, Varuna, does not mean inevitability.”

Varuna made a noise in his throat, as if he did not believe a word Agni said. “Dushyanta considered it inevitable. In his eyes, even a glimmer of speculation was enough to destroy such evil. I cannot blame him for anticipating such doom, yet I remain hopeful that this is not a continuation of the past,” Varuna countered. “You had your hand out, requesting a counterpart. I obliged you. Stood by you. Assisted you, even. As unfortunate as it may be, such a request seems to have soured and blackened with taint. Perhaps our enemy isn't as gone as we'd like to think.”

They spoke in broken pieces, fragments of the whole. Micah grasped those shattered fragments, putting his own speculations together with what he knew previously and what he was overhearing. A _counterpart._ Varuna said it aloud. None of the other gods seemed to have known the purpose behind Agni’s lingering presence in the mortal realm.

Except for Varuna.

The fire god had requested a _counterpart._

Only, according to Varuna, Micah was flawed. _Blackened._ Knowing he was defective was one thing, discovering he was created for the sole purpose of Agni’s greed was an entirely other matter. A part of him had suspected—had known— the reason behind the god’s interest, yet hearing it made it real. He felt bile rise. He felt cheated.

_And yet…_

“I see no taint,” Agni replied firmly in defense of Micah. “Only supremacy.”

“Holding on will not prevent the inevitable Dushyanta foresaw,” Varuna warned.

“I will not let go.”

Upon Agni’s promise, Varuna turned once again to Micah.

The god swayed behind the ice, drawing attention to the hair floating whimsically around his face. Something passed behind those eyes, a sentiment of amused partiality as he regarded the stubborn features of Micah. Unfortunately, footsteps slapped in the snow and voices disrupted the ethereal haze that had settled between Micah and the two gods.

Varuna’s image disappeared entirely, yet his voice lingered behind one last time. “Perhaps this is for the best…” the water god trailed off softly. “Proper balance needs to be restored.” 

“Your Highness!”

Micah tore his gaze from Varuna’s disappearing form, feeling disjointed as he stumbled back into reality. Taking a step back, he shivered, suddenly drained both physically and mentally. Above the ice barrier, he noticed the water disappeared, allowing all those beneath the ice to observe the murky image of the sunny, normal sky.

He started to walk slowly back to the transport, bypassing the warriors’ stares of wide admiration.

“I trust you and your fire Elementals can thaw out a path, Lord Josiah.”

He did not look at the man or even wait for a confirmative. Climbing into the back of the transport, he motioned the Unda Healer forward. The young man obliged swiftly, staring at Micah with blatant awe. At his feet, Kai watched him just as well, his gaze calculating and far too observant for someone currently in a fevered state.

“You will do as the Healer says,” Micah spoke to Kai sternly. “Exactly.”

Glancing back out into the snowy landscape, he scowled when he realized everyone remained unmoving, as if waiting for him to say something further. He clapped his hands once. “Get moving. _Now_!”

As he turned to escape further into the transport, someone murmured, “He _would_ be the type of man to pretend as if he hadn’t just accomplished the impossible.”

_The impossible._

Micah released a hiss of exasperation and emerged himself into the large transport.

He needed to be alone with his thoughts.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was cut in half (but at a section break). Next one is just a little on the heavy side, which is why I separated it into two so…. 
> 
> Also, I’m not an artist, nor am I a graphic designer… *clears throat* but I made a map of Concordia. Kind of a rough outline (some things are subject to change, like Ezra’s previous locations, but for the most part its finalized). You can go [HERE](https://epic-solemnity.livejournal.com/) to see it.
> 
> And yeah, about that second half of this chapter. It has editing to do so ^maybe^ sometime this weekend. But I have some stuff to do before the work week so it may not happen D:


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Micah needed some self-reflection, but my goodness, he knows how to ramble. It’s funny he can ramble in his mind about some things and then entirely avoid thinking about other things O.o As evidence after this chapter….. 
> 
> And so, the moment many of you have been waiting for…. [actually I'm pretty nervous how you will all receive this]

**28\. Chapter Twenty-Eight**

 

An infection.

A critical infection.

That’s what the Healer informed Micah proceeding Kai’s examination.  

After using the defrosted transport to travel to Region 20’s train depot, they’d all boarded the royal train back to the capital. At that time, Kai disappeared behind closed doors with the Healer for a thorough examination. Plenty of medicines and salves stocked the royal train, acting as an acceptable medical bay until they reached the capital.   

The Healer spent over an hour with Kai before he’d escaped the room and approached a sullen and silent Micah, who’d taken position in the common area with the others. “He was unconscious almost immediately,” the Healer whispered. He looked at the others from the corner of his eyes and leaned closer to Micah, pitching his voice even lower. “Often times, as in this case, a patient can run on adrenaline and force their body to resist symptoms and unconsciousness.”

Micah stood from his seat, drawing the close attention and reverence of the others.

“Considering this is only a temporary sanction, with limited resources and assistance, I’m doing all that I can to stabilize him, Your Highness.” The Healer escorted him back into the provisional healing ward, shutting the door behind him.

Upon the bed was an unconscious Kai, appearing frail and pale. Even in sleep, small tremors danced up and down his limbs. A gentle humming resonated from a swirling sphere of water positioned and suspended over Kai’s chest. It seemed to draw fluids from the unconscious form, for the clear sphere clouded a sickly red-yellow. Toxic-like.

That sight alone did not give Micah any reassurances.

“He has an accelerated form of infection that has reached his bloodstream. This is a very serious condition, Your Highness. As of now, I’m giving him fluids and drawing out as much of the infection as I can, however, such basic treatment won’t be enough for him. We need to act quickly once we reach the capital and provide him with thorough treatment.”

Micah took a long moment to process the words. He heard the implications, sensed this was far more critical than specified. Out of any other occupation, even politicians, Healers had unmatched control and the tendency to downplay critical situations. If this man said Kai’s condition was serious, it did not look promising.  

“Healer…?”

“Healer Hali, Your Highness.” The man bowed low at the waist, his white robes pooling clumsily at his feet.

He was a short man for an Unda, short and very young.

“Healer Hali,” Micah repeated the name deliberately, keeping his attention on Kai. “When we get back to the capital, he is to be placed under my protection. You will care for him in my personal wing at the palace. Aside from the Healers, I don’t want anyone granted access to him unless I explicitly express otherwise.” 

He then turned to the man, watching as the young Healer hurriedly looked down at the ground in awkward deference.

“If anyone should go against those directives, even his own father, you will come to me straightaway and inform me.” He paused. “I’m putting a great deal of trust in you, Healer Hali, please do not let me down.”

Hali suddenly looked up, his gaze bright and determined. “I won’t let you down, Your Highness.”

The Healer’s candid and impressionable promise was over an hour ago.

Micah had since taken position next to Edlen’s bedside, staring at his unconscious form with unfocused eyes.

While the Healer had cleaned Kai’s grime-covered body and dressed him in clean clothing, it did nothing to hide the sickness, nor draw attention away from the heavily bandaged face and eye.

As impressive as water Elementals were with their healing abilities, nothing could bring back Kai’s eye. Even the flesh stripped from the right side of his jawline would most likely take quite some time to heal. Physical reminders were nearly as painful as their mental counterparts, as evidence by the nightmare currently tormenting Kai’s sleep. Sweat dotted the blond man’s forehead and he twitched uncomfortably.

Micah rested his chin upon his hand and observed his teammate unhappily.  

_Yama._

Closing his eyes, he rolled the name around in his mind, desperately trying to remember why it sounded so familiar. Agni doubted the Syphon was truly Yama, claiming the entity was dead— _extinct_. Meanwhile, Varuna spoke of an enemy that was not as dead as they’d—the gods—initially believed. Could Yama be the enemy who’d ‘tainted’ Micah, souring Agni’s idea of a model counterpart?

Micah exhaled with bitter amusement, rolling his fingers into a fist and pressing it against his mouth to stifle a bitter laugh.

Evidently, he wasn’t what Agni had requested.

What were Varuna’s words?

Ah, _yes_.

Agni had his hand out, all but begging for a counterpart. The very idea of Agni asking for anything, a counterpart particularly, seemed entirely implausible. Micah was sure there was more to it than a mere _counterpart._ Why would Agni, who prided himself on solitary power, and isolation amongst the other gods, want something so sentimental? Was it normal practice amongst gods to request a creation of a counterpart? Moreover, what did a counterpart entail? 

An equal?

Micah’s eyes gradually opened at that thought.

An equal to Agni? One of the major gods? Doubtful. There were already three others equal to the fire god’s strength. Only, he remembered when he’d conjured his Element on the train those several days ago. Upon physical contact with Agni, who’d summoned his own Element, the shockwaves that resulted between them had been immensely powerful.

Opposites. Equals. Painfully pleasurable.

Yet, he was still a mortal, albeit with Agni’s intentions to turn him into a deity.

They were not yet equals.

Micah didn’t know what he felt about being created solely for Agni. Undoubtedly, it bothered him. It didn’t sit well with him. Already, Ember and Calder conceived him solely for political purposes. In the mortal realm, they’d already decided his destiny. In the immortal realm, it seemed just as decided. To have his entire existence predetermined with weighty expectations from others made him… simmer.

Was he simply a doll, designed and programed to walk the path they’d constructed for him?

Grudgingly, he understood and accepted his mortal destiny. His father had the same destiny. As did Calder’s father. And so forth. Upon birth, royal monarchs all had predestined roles they were required to play. Micah was no different. He had to serve the crown and his kingdom. He had to unite and protect his people. It was unavoidable, just as it had been unavoidable for Josiah, Ember, and Calder.

They were all designed at the whims of their predecessors. Only, his predecessor didn’t design him. Agni had. All with the intentions of entwining the necessary qualities of his mortal destiny in with his immortal one.

Micah considered his gloved hands, curling and loosening his fingers in a soothing, repetitive gesture. He couldn’t muster up the fury he wanted to upon the revelation that he was Agni’s design. He knew he should be furious. The mere idea he was Agni’s _counterpart_ was just as constraining as having a _Chosen_ bond.

But was it really?

Was it just as artificial, just as restraining?

No. He felt animated when he and Agni were particularly close. Drawn in, captivated, and powerful. Something within him truly mirrored back in Agni and vice versa. It wasn’t forced. He would know if it was compulsory and artificial like the bond he shared with Haken. Over the years, whatever bond he had with Agni had grown, cultivated, and enhanced the more they interacted. The more Micah _grew_ and matured _._

However, the most important reason he wasn’t furious over the revelation of being Agni’s counterpart was that it simply did not fit.

Agni wasn’t especially transparent to Micah. At least not yet. Nevertheless, he believed he knew the fire god well enough to suspect there was more to it. No matter how much he tried, he could not envision Agni having ‘his hand out’, beseeching for a counterpart. And even going to Varuna for assistance. The idea was so ludicrous to Micah, he nearly laughed with resentment. His cheeks burned with humiliation for Agni, only because the Agni he knew was proud and silent, he would not make his plight known to everyone, especially _Varuna._

Moreover, what really tamed his resentment over the situation was a memory he recalled.

During the first night on the train to Region 20, on their way to rescue Kai, Agni told Micah he always had a choice.

A choice—and opportunity— to refuse immortality.

Even if Agni’s words weren’t entirely true, and he did not plan to destroy Micah if he so requested, Micah knew the words were significant enough that he really did have an escape if he desired. He could find a way to thwart immortality. That knowledge alone gave him the revelation that he was not entirely powerless in this situation as originally believed.

He had options. He had choices.

That road predestined for him had forked paths if he looked hard enough.

He was just relieved to have the answers he’d always wondered. Clutching mere fragments of the whole had never satisfied him.

Everything finally fit together. His childhood. Agni’s interest and obsession.

With his pieced-together revelations, however, came the second half of the whole. While Agni remained in the mortal realm, apparently not too discouraged by Micah’s current progress, Varuna was vocal that he had _flaws_. Soured and blackened with taint.

_“I see no taint. Only supremacy.”_

Micah rocked forward in his seat, clasping his hands together to stop them from tapping impatiently as he recalled Agni’s smug and protective rebuttal to Varuna’s claim. Whatever flaw he possessed, the other gods saw it as a threat. Dushyanta, the god of enmity, the destroyer of evil, saw it as reason to hunt him despite Agni’s fierce protection. The Syphon—Yama—had hinted towards something similar in the underground cavern. Yet, despite all this, Agni remained a solid and unwavering wall of support.

Was this ‘taint’ a part of his destiny in the immortal realm? Had Agni known about this particular ‘taint’ before or after conception? And how had Varuna assisted Agni in securing Micah as a counterpart?

How was the white-haired goddess tied into all this?

“They made me eat it.”

Micah refocused on Kai. The man had his head turned towards Micah. Judging from his glazed, unfocused eye, the boy was not truly present. What came from his mouth was a pitiful mewl.

“Micah. I ate it,” he cried hoarsely.

Micah frowned, watching as the man fell back into a restless sleep. By Kai’s mention of eating _it,_ Micah could only assume he’d been referencing his eye. Sighing, he ran a hand down his face and kept it there as he cradled his heavy head. Knowing how stubborn Kai was, he doubted the other man would voluntarily speak about his experiences. Being captive of a Syphon, who reeked of misery and fear, had to produce some kind of emotional damage.

Irreversible. Damning.

It certainly yielded enough physical mutilation.

“He isn’t as fragile as you fear he is. For a mortal, that is.”

With a hand still pressed against his face, Micah could not see the source of the voice, yet he knew the identity behind it immediately.

“You, on the other hand, could use a bit more resilience.”

Micah lowered his hand, staring into Kai’s milky eye.

Upon seeing the possession, his nostrils flared angrily, yet he kept tight control over his initial reaction. Dimly, he noted Kai’s aura remained the same. He thought back to his mother, wondering why he couldn’t remember the color of her aura. It had been chaotic at the time. Surely, it had been silver like Kai’s. Mortal-like. It was if Syphons did not carry their own individual auras like that of the red-gold of gods and goddesses.

However, Syphons did possess that unmistakable sense of unease. While Yama seemed to muffle his presence as he had in the cave, Micah could all but see the heavy, noxious trepidation uncurl its wicked tendrils. A blooming flower of lethality and harsh terror.

“Yama,” he uttered softly with calm acknowledgement.

Kai’s lips pulled into an uncanny smile. “Ezra.”

Micah stared at him unhappily. “What are your intentions with Kai?”

Kai’s expression froze, the uncanniness from his smile freezing into something sinful. “Absolutely nothing.” He blinked languidly. “You must feel… honored. You are the source of focus and intrigue for many gods. They think you are a damnation.”

“Honored, I suppose, is one way of putting it,” Micah replied cynically, slowly uncurling from his position and sitting at the very edge of his chair. “You also indicated I was more than a mortal. Is that not true?”

He regarded Yama through narrow eyes, searching for any signs that Kai was struggling against the possession. Fortunately, the healing sphere still hummed soothingly above the young man and continued to collect the infection from his body. Yama seemed content laying in Kai’s body, compliant and indifferent as the healing continued around him. It was if the entity wanted to remain placated in order to keep Micah calm and finish their earlier conversation. 

“Most the older, more experienced gods, know you to be the Reaper.”

Micah frowned, shaken and nauseated at the sudden, abrupt truth.

He inhaled once. Twice.

He shuddered out a semblance of a laugh and gasp at the same time. “The Reaper.”

“ _The_ Reaper. Reborn,” Yama crooned with dark hilarity.

Reaper. Reaper…

_The_ Reaper.

It was a legend not known to every man and woman, at least of the younger generations. Old fables and dying works of literature depicted death differently centuries ago. Modern day religion had since transformed the stories of dying and afterlife to fit more closely to their respective gods and goddess. Agni and the other three gods carried the souls of their people to the afterlife during extravagant ceremonies of rituals and prayer. If a devotee was loyal enough, devoted enough, in their mortal life, and lived how they believed their god or goddess wanted them to live, they would go on and live forever in paradise. If not, they would dwell in the pits of purgatory and suffer for eternity.

The older folklores of death and afterlife were nothing more than vague recollections of a dead, archaic religion. It was something scholars studied as a faded practice of a time long ago.

They found it fascinating. They wrote their findings in texts for men and women to read at leisure. Audiences would find it merely interesting what their ancestors believed several hundred years ago, finding it almost scandalous that there were mentions of other gods being just as prevalent as their one, true god or goddess.   

The past beliefs certainly did not apply to the modern day religion and ceremonies.

From what Micah knew, from what Ember mentioned when he was very, very young, was that the Reaper used to be the judge of mortal souls. The Reaper was a very important and prominent figure for all mortal lives. Only the Reaper would decide the fate of a mortal soul and their destined path in afterlife. The Reaper represented death. The Reaper _was_ death.

Realization struck, abruptly reminding him why the name Yama sounded so familiar.

_Reaper. Reaper. God of Justice. The King of Mortality. Of Death. The decider of souls._

A dead… archaic religion.

Ironic that it currently looked him in the eye.  

He straighten in his chair, his hands curling around the armrests until his knuckles turned white. He was uneasy at the revelation, wary at the implications. “You’re not truly a Syphon, are you?” Micah paused, waiting with a baited breath. “You’re something much more than a Syphon. You’re a god. Yama. The god of death.”

Upon the accusation, Yama showed no outward expressions. “I was a god,” he rasped softly.

“Was?” Micah asked. “How can a god _use_ to be a god? Were you… consumed by a Syphon?”

That wouldn’t make sense. He imagined Dushyanta. The only thing that could kill him—the only thing to kill all gods—were Syphons. He didn’t imagine Dushyanta would crop up one day and proclaim himself no longer a god. He was just extinct. Extinct—exactly what Agni proclaimed Yama was. Yet… he was here in front of Micah, was he not?

Extreme hilarity crossed Kai’s face. “I was the one who created Syphons. They yielded _to me._ ” A pause. “They did not destroy me.”

“Then who did?”

“The other gods. After beseeching for the help from the almighty _Brahma_.”

The name Brahma did not even stir the faintest recollection from Micah as ‘Yama’ had. From the way Yama shifted restlessly and spat the name, Micah imagined Brahma was an exceptionally powerful god but a very unknown to mortals.

“After the altercation, I went where all dead gods go.” A twitch of lips. “When gods smite other gods, we are not dead, but rather reborn into Syphons. Stripped of our godly identities and powers, functioning only as the servants of the god of death. Only, the gods believed they’d also destroyed me in that form. But they hadn’t. I was scattered. In pieces. As if they could kill the _god of death._ ”

Micah licked his lips and shifted in his chair. He could not fathom what he was hearing. “A god of death seems to be a vital and necessary role. For both the mortal and immortal realm. Why would they kill you and disrupt the natural order of things?” What was the afterlife like without the god of death? What had it been like before? When Yama was in power?

He had so many questions, so much curiosity.

Only, Yama seemed just as elusive as Agni when Micah attempted to ask questions.

Yama stayed silent for quite some time. “They believed they were doing the right thing.”

“How so?”

“Gods are arrogant and superior creatures. What is the one thing they would fear above all else?”

Micah did not have to consider the question long. “Death.”

“For only a Syphon could truly consume a god. They feared me,” Yama informed passionately. “As the god of death, I had many powers, but above all else, Syphons and daemons were under my control, necessary bringers of death and souls. Yet, the gods still mistreated us. Looked down at us as if we were… inferior beings. We were not ‘good nor pure’. We were dark. Soiled. Yet, we were necessary and vital parts of the whole.”

“You bucked against their treatment.” Micah narrowed his eyes. “You speak of other powers you possessed…” he trailed off, trying to find the right way to form his question without it sounding reproachful. “Did you abuse those powers? Is that why they hunted you?”

Yama did not lose his smile, nor did he respond to the question. “I learned of your creation. Sculpted, shaped, and engineered solely for Agni. A weak little thing at first that would continuously grow stronger. I couldn’t help myself.”

“From doing what?” Micah asked cruelly, instantly strengthening his defenses.

Yama exhaled softly and placed his head on the pillow. He then closed his eye. “Have you heard of parasitism, Ezra? Parasites growing stronger from their host?” Without waiting for a response, he continued unkindly. “What better host to latch on to than a young, developing child that a god had designed for himself?”

“You attached a piece of yourself on me,” Micah deduced suspiciously.  

It was suddenly hard to swallow.

“ _Pieces_ ,” Yama corrected with emphasis. “Pieces that have since combined together and steadily grown stronger each day. When your physical body dies, and crosses over into my realm, I will be reassembled into something much more powerful than my current form.”

“Not all parasitic relationships are lethal.” Micah stood slowly from his chair. His limbs were tense, rigid. Curious at first, he no longer wanted to hear this. “I am assuming, however, that as soon as this _parasite_ detaches itself from my soul, I will no longer function without it.”

Again, Yama took some time to respond. He feigned rest in Kai’s body, keeping his eye stubbornly closed. “Not necessarily,” the entity replied almost inaudibly. “You are an incredibly strong soul. Strengthening it would not harm your chances of thriving. In fact, I would deduce that you could thrive in the afterlife.”

Micah laughed once with bitter amusement. “Strengthening the host would allow the parasite to draw off that power.”

“You are a distrustful little thing.” Yama emitted a soft laugh. “And yet, you are also peculiar.”

“How so?”

Content to remain resting, Yama only offered a small inclination of his head. “For someone who claims they do not want immortality, who is content for eternal rest upon his death just to spite Agni, you are certainly taking this far more emotionally than I had anticipated.”

The words shocked Micah senseless.

Yama was right.

The entity spoke of Micah _dying_ upon crossing over to the afterlife. Wasn’t that what he wanted anyway? Wasn’t that why Agni grew so displeased? The _audacity_ of a mortal spitting upon his offered gift of immortality was simply unheard of. Yet, a part of Micah wanted to do it just to prove that he was in control of his own destiny, his own life. What Yama wanted worked in favor of what Micah boasted _he_ wanted.

However, did he truly want what he loudly boasted?

Eternal rest?

“So I’m not truly your successor,” Micah murmured distrustfully, his suspicion growing and taking shape.

He did not trust Yama. He’d be a fool if he did. Something did not sit right.

When he summoned the Syphon those many weeks ago, the Syphon acted as if he were a _fledgling._ Something familiar. Something young and underdeveloped. He’d then unlocked Micah’s ability of seeing mortal and god souls. Did the Syphon know, at that time, he’d been predestined to be the god of death? His future commander? The Syphon had claimed in wonder that _‘she’_ had created him. Almost in disbelieving awe. The word ‘created’ indicated that it was new. From scratch.

Something that had once been, but was now new again.

How did it explain his instinct to consume the god during the capital attack?

How did it explain Agni’s insistence that Micah had the ability to expel the Syphon during the possession?

Were all those signs just symptoms of Yama’s attachment? Micah did not know much about parasitic relationships between the host and the parasite, but he did know, or at least strongly suspect, that the parasite did not influence the host to act any differently. All those signs were Micah. Just Micah. His own doing.

Yet, how could he explain those unfamiliar feelings towards the pale-haired goddess? It had to be Yama’s emotions. His sentiments.

But…

No.

It still did not make sense. Micah refused to believe he was just a host for Yama.

“If it weren’t for your… plans, would I be the next god of death? The next… god of justice for mortal souls?”

“I believe you were destined to be, yes,” Yama admitted outright without any attempt to hide the truth. “You were created to replace me. In any other given time, I would have approved of you as my successor.”

“But you don’t believe that now. You want to retake your old position.”

“Do you blame me for that?” Yama inquired quietly. “It is a very delicate time in our realm. Very volatile. I believe they would eat you alive. Such a young, thriving soul, inexperienced, and entirely naïve, would be overwhelmed by their hostility and their remembrance of the past. My revelations to you today were not meant to upset you, Ezra,” Yama murmured, his soft, genderless voice turning into a soothing tenor. “If anything, I had anticipated a temporary, albeit strained alliance.”

It was Micah’s turn to laugh bitterly.

“An alliance? Perhaps I’d consider the mere _possibility_ if you released my mother and Kai from their possessions. I don’t want you using their bodies ever again.”

Kai’s eye opened and Yama pinned Micah with an ominous stare. “If that is what it would take for you to consider an alliance, then you have my word. I will never gain possession of their bodies again unless it is absolutely vital.” He sounded sincere, just as he did disconsolate. “We have a common dislike and a common empathy, Ezra.” He seemed tense, ready for an altercation. “A dislike of gods—of anyone in general—who hold power over a group of weakened individuals. Such _arrogance,_ such spite. It is power abuse and an unethical imbalance.”

He had nothing to say over Yama’s observation.

How could he deny it when it was true?

He thought of the nobles, of the high aristocracy. _Both_ Igni and Unda alike. He thought of those who suffered in the outer regions while the nobles gorged themselves on finery and splendor. The gods, too. Their tendency to demolish mortals and puppeteer them to their entertainment. Yet, Micah knew Yama spoke of another group of entities who the gods had wronged.

Not mortals, but Syphons and daemons.

“Words cannot possibly reflect the pain my people are in,” Yama persisted. Oddly enough, his voice cracked with raw, haunting emotion. “They are trapped in a realm that was once their home, continuously subjected to endless pain and torment. It is something you must experience for yourself to understand my plight.”

Kai’s unconscious body abruptly slumped back into the pillows.

Evidently, Yama no longer possessed him, for his limbs lost their tension and peaceful sleep returned to him.

Micah stepped backward, well aware of Yama’s intentions. He couldn’t see anything. No hint of an aura. No tremors rippling the air. All that filled the room was a Syphon’s venomous presence.

And then he felt the unmistakable cold seep under his skin.

A foreign, but oddly familiar, presence butting up against his own soul.

He’d never experienced possession before, besides the Syphon back in the Eurus Empire, and wondered if all the hosts felt so _vigorously alive_. A pleasant, silky sensation slid down his spine until it reached the small of his back and spread—like claws—around his ribs and chest.

A sense of completion filled him, awakened a deep, slumbering part of his mind. The pleasure did not last long, however, for pain suddenly erupted in his chest, centralized on his left side. Numbness and discomfort danced up and down his left arm, forcing him to use his right hand to cup his contracting chest.

His breath came out in short gasps, unable to get a full inhalation past the tightness in his lungs. Cold sweat broke out at the nape of his neck, contrasting sharply with the hot burn of pain spreading wildly across his skin. He staggered into the bedside chair and fell, experiencing a bout of dizziness.

For a moment, as he lay there, he dwelled in the unpleasant pain, fighting tooth and nail against the unconsciousness as it lingered nearby.

_Agni…_

In the distance, he heard the door slam open and a rush of footsteps.

Someone screamed.

He surrendered to the blissful blackness before he could see the owner of the hands that grabbed him desperately.

*** * * ***

 

Healer Hali gently guided Bay’s wrist back and forth, manipulating a calm stream of water alongside the fractured limb. Conway watched the interaction between brooding patient and passive Healer, remembering when he’d just recently broken several bones in his body. It took a dozen of Healers and a dozen of labor hours to meld each bone back together.

It was not a pleasant experience to recall.

Cordelia Abital’s son leaned against the cushioned bench next to his unhappy teammate, his ribs already healed. Just down the aisle, the young Igni Healer watched the healing process just as well, noticeable envy creasing the small lines around his mouth.

Conway mused the boy was still young enough that he did not realize the extent of his importance. Not only to the Igni culture, who saw less and less of their race learning the art of traditional healing, but also to royalty, who had an heir to the throne who was incapable of healing by a water Elemental.  

When that piece of information spread across the royal court, Conway had heard the murmurs.

They called the prince a liability.

Such a weakness was undesirable for the future leader of their kingdom.

Apparently, they’d never seen the prince wield a sword. They’d never witnessed him harnessing his ice Element. They’d never seen him adapt the role of a commander during tense, unstable conditions. He was much like his predecessors, ready to put his life on the line alongside the men and women who followed him. They’d never stopped to consider what Prince Ezra’s loyalty to his teammates meant and what that could entail for a whole kingdom.

Conway turned forward, running a critical eye across his men and Lord Josiah’s men. He was certain stories would spread like wildfire amongst the court when they returned to the capital. Most of the warriors remained dumbstruck, having witnessed a power they hadn’t believed possible.

Not against Varuna.

_Varuna_.

Fortunately, after Prince Ezra had overpowered the crushing wall of water, their Element had returned to them. A temporary fluke, a fluke that proved Varuna was real. A fluke that prove Varuna bestowed their water Element upon them and could very well take it away on whim.

Conway gazed out the window, the passing scenery almost a blur.

It was unbelievable.

Unreal.

While it was implausible that gods would interfere with mortal conflicts, too many occurrences happened in that ghost town to ignore. Noir Users could not conjure such displays of power. No, the gods were real and their displeasure was obvious. What they wanted with Ezra, Conway did not know, nor understand.

Granted, Ezra was the first of his kind.

Perhaps that was it.

An ice Elemental did not fall into the strict boundaries of the four Elements. It was the gods’ way to express their disapproval of two races crossing and creating hybrid children. Whatever the reason, Conway predicted it would not sit well with court. With the public.

To have a prince sit on the throne, whom the gods continued to express their displeasure over, would not bode well. Even if Conway and Lord Josiah convinced the other warriors to keep their silence to what they’d observed, he knew it would eventually become known. The best Conway and Lord Josiah could do was downplay what they’d witnessed; make it come across as Noir Users.

They would need to speak with King Calder regarding the alignment of their stories.

They would also need to discuss the damage done to Region 20.

On their way back to the train depot, Conway noticed Prince Ezra’s lingering and focused attention on the heart of Region 20. Buildings were damaged, the markets were in disarray, and water most likely seeped into the underground tunnels. Upon an already poverty-stricken region, such damage was disastrous. It could lead to a number of casualties, but more worrisome, mass diseases if left untreated.  

A sudden gasp broadcasted throughout the train.

Conway and the others turned, just in time to witness the Igni Healer—Haken Anwar—scramble ungracefully to his feet. He clutched his chest and stumbled towards the back of the compartment, the exact location where the prince was located. In his haste, the Igni Healer tripped over a chair and promptly fell flat on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“What is he doing?”

Standing, Conway quickly followed the young Healer as he recovered. Bodies pressed behind him and Conway resisted the urge to tell them to get back to their seats. He was just as perplexed as the rest of them.

Words failed him.

As Healer Anwar slammed open the infirmary door, Conway caught sight of the prince sprawled over a toppled chair next to a blissfully unconscious Kai Edlen. The young prince was unmoving, his legs flung over the chair and his cold, pale eyes unseeing.

He resembled a delicate porcelain doll.

Chillingly beautiful in an eerie, dark sense.

Someone screamed behind him, expressing his own sentiments.

The Igni Healer raced over and grabbed hold of the prince. He pressed two fingers against Prince Ezra’s neck, checking for a pulse and bending down to listen. Only a handful of seconds passed before the Healer acted quickly, tilting the prince’s head back to lift the chin. Placing his palms and weight against Ezra’s chest, the young Igni man applied compressions in rapid succession. He then pinched Ezra’s nose and pressed their mouths together, administering rescue breathing before repeating the cycle.

Conway knew of rescue resuscitation. Besides executing his knowledge during training for combat, he’d never had to perform it on anyone.

They all watched in silence, their dread mounting as it continued to fail.

“Move out of my way.”

Not even a second after they entered the infirmary, the malevolent presence infiltrated their ranks. The shove from behind and the callous order brought Conway back to the present.

He turned, catching the wide, disbelieving eyes of all his men and the others.

“All of you, out!” Conway commanded sharply.

Lord Josiah pushed his way forward, hissing for Anwar to back away from the prince. The young Healer scrambled away, appearing frightened over whatever expression the Igni king wore. Judging from his tone, Conway couldn’t imagine seeing anything remotely comforting on Lord Josiah’s face. Dividing his attention between ushering the others out of the compartment and watching as Lord Josiah hovered over Prince Ezra, Conway found himself simply staring. 

Rather unexpectedly, a black and blue flame blanketed Lord Josiah’s hand and he abruptly punched the prince in the chest.

Anwar screamed out in protest.

Even Conway flinched at the unexpectedness.

Only, the fist went through Ezra’s chest as if it were incorporeal. Conway shifted uneasily, recognizing it as Noir Magic. It had to be. Fire and water Elements did not work on the prince and Lord Josiah knew this. Granted, the court and several royal guards knew of Josiah dabbling in Noir Magic during his younger years. It was what made the man so formidable. Too many feared him, feared the powers he rarely ever executed in public.

“Out.” Conway blocked the scene as the others tried to peer inside.

“What happened to Micah?” Talia Bay asked desperately.

“Go,” Conway instructed again. “We will get answers eventually.”

Someone gasped and Conway turned back around, watching as Lord Josiah removed his fist. The gasp came from the prince as his chest rose voluntarily. As he exhaled, a large cloud of visible breath escaped his lips as if he were exceedingly cold.

A whimper sounded.

Frightened and small.

Conway frowned as he noticed the lone tear sliding down the prince’s cheek as the young man grasped clumsily for Lord Josiah’s hand. In a rare act of devotion, the Igni king kneeled readily next to Ezra and tenderly cradled his neck. The older man gently stroked his forehead, murmuring soft words only they were privy to.

“Come on,” Conway urged, turning his back on the two, feeling as if he were an uninvited spectator to such an intimate, affectionate exchange. “Get out. All of you. Get out!”

Fortunately, they heeded his order this time around.

As Conway walked back to his seat, he couldn’t help but realize that Lord Josiah, who proclaimed himself Ezra’s Chosen, was not the first one to react to the prince’s condition. Granted, Lord Josiah was there a mere _second_ later. Moreover, who knew what Lord Josiah felt upon the prince’s collapse? The man could have felt it just as well, but he was far more apt at veiling his unchecked emotions.

Conway just found it suspicious that the Igni Healer had acted out so loudly, all the while, grasping his chest in phantom pain and stumbling into the infirmary in a mad dash.

Perhaps some things should not be analyzed, least he find himself burdened with damning answers that only led to more questions.

 

*** * * ***

As the pain overcame him, Micah became weightless.

Amongst the complete darkness, he heard the whispers once more. Only, this time, he could hear actual words. Hundreds of pleas, thousands of desperate implorations as they reached out to Micah, clear and distinguishable. The tightness in his chest did not go away. While it was not the overwhelming pain as before, it still thrummed unpleasantly. It ached deep and profound, as if desperately missing a vital piece. 

As his surroundings took shape, the emptiness grew stronger.

So hollow.

Trees, dead and naked, twisted high into the dark, lifeless sky. Their branches intertwined together, twisting and snaking in gnarly vines and spidery outgrowths. Charcoal clouds hazed the navy blue skies, nearly concealing the silver sun that shed its colorless light down upon the snow-covered grounds.

Micah exhaled, watching his breath arch into visible tendrils, reaching far up into the obscured sky. Faint, nearly invisible red-gold lines crisscrossed above, appearing like a net that had cast itself over the grey, dead world.

_The gods_ , he realized grimly.

Staring into the glowing net caused an unusual pain in the back of his eye sockets. Baring his teeth in a snarl, he hunkered low and covered his head, trying to bend as far away from the net as possible. Though he’d looked away from the net long ago, a ghostly image burned into his retinas and caused his skin to prickle excruciatingly. A warning. A sadistic and torturous reminder not to get too close—a cage and a prison.

Stubbornly looking down at the snow, he realized he was nude.

His bare toes entrenched in the snow and ice.

Naked.

The cold abruptly hit him.

Bare toes wiggled in the deep snow, an attempt to ward off the numbing ache. Ironic, he thought, considering this was supposed to be his _Element._ The cold nipped at his exposed flesh, sinking its teeth deep into his muscle and bone. He whimpered against the pain, knowing he couldn’t escape this. Not even death could end the relentless suffering.

How could the undead die?

Crouching down, he curled his arms around his abdomen to ward off the cold. Amongst the agony, amongst the discomfort, he could feel the emptiness in his chest extend into his stomach and simmer into a deep, unfathomable hunger.

He was so hungry. Famished.

Though he knew hunger since a child, nothing could compare to this. Crouched like an animal and shaking fervently, he watched as dark silhouettes emerged from the surrounding trees. Their postures reflected his own, hunched and animal-like. Tentative. White, glowing eyes blinked back at him as they begged for help.

He clenched his hair at the roots, squinting at their encompassing numbers.

Hundreds. Thousands.

Through the haze of his own agony, he could feel their misery. Their desperation and their crushed pride. They were kicked beasts. Mere reflections of their previous glory. Trapped and subjected to eternal pain and hunger.

_Oh, the hunger._

The longer he stood there, trembling and basking in their presence, the further his self-identity slipped from his grasp. He became one with them. Lost himself in their misery.

It became his own.

Snow abruptly fell from the sky, appearing almost ethereal in such a devastating environment. He watched it distrustfully. As it touched his skin, he realized it was not pristine snow, but ashes. A blinding, white-hot pain swept across his body. He screamed, swiping the large, offending ash. They screamed with him as their figures hunkered back into the darkness, invisible once again. Their wails stayed behind, however. Despairing and weeping pleads.

_Reaper._

_Reaper._

Throwing his head back, he bawled, staring at the red-gold net. Fury, thick like sludge, crawled its way up his throat.

**_Gods!_ **

Something shifted in his body and a pressure erupted through his chest. He stared down uncomprehendingly at the fist emerging from his body, engulfed by blue-black flames. He struggled a long time with the significance. He struggled with his distinctiveness and his memories. Even if he’d been here a scant few minutes, he’d nearly forgotten his identity. His sense of self, his personality, had all been replaced with mind-numbing cold, pain, horror, and misery. He’d felt like an animal that could not escape or speak out against the treatment.

The fist pulled back and Micah felt his body following suit.

While he was grateful to leave the damnation, he felt guilty for leaving _them_ behind. Their cries followed him through the abyss and continued to reverberate in his ears even as he merged back with his physical body.

Warm hands cradled his neck and stroked his forehead.

He sunk into the embrace, realizing he’d desperately grabbed hold of one of those warm, comforting hands.

His mind remained hazy as it struggled to recognize his surroundings. Consequently, as he opened his eyes to the man cradling him, all he saw was the red-gold aura indicating a _god._ Halfway back in Yama’s realm, and struggling to return wholeheartedly in the mortal realm, he did what any daemon would do in this situation.

He lashed out in fury.

Physically, vocally, and with his Element.

His fingernails caught the skin across the man’s face before arms wrapped fiercely around him. They restrained him just as the net restrained all the daemons and Syphons in Yama’s realm.

The confinement only served to aggravate him further.

He hissed, instincts zeroing in on the man’s mouth. He stilled abruptly upon realizing that such close proximity was _his_ weapon. His stomach churned in hunger and clenched with undeniable lust for revenge. Lunging his head forward, he pressed their lips together, inhaling deeply, greedily, hoping to get a taste.

Only, fingers grabbed his face and turned him away harshly.

“I am not your enemy. Micah.”

Blood-orange eyes stared down at him.

Familiar.

An odd sensation warped down his spine. A satisfying sensation. Looking above the god’s head, he found himself faltering, his mind numbing once again, but this time in quiet wonder as opposed to reckless fury.

Bright orange flames entwined with gleaming and polished ice.

The sight was precariously beautiful.

“Micah,” Agni called again. “Calm yourself.”

Agni rarely called him Micah, yet he kept repeating it with heavy emphasis. Eventually, it was enough to bring Micah back to himself.

He blinked furiously, realizing he was trying to ward off tears. The ice that danced venomously with Agni’s flames abruptly vanished, reflecting the sudden energy drain in his body. He couldn’t hold it together for much longer.

Gradually, Agni’s fingers released their clawed hold on his face.

Micah remained limp, frightened. With shaking hands, he reached up and grabbed Josiah’s robes. “Please,” he begged hoarsely, losing his battle with consciousness. In his last effort to thwart the blackness creeping at the edges of his vision, he demanded Agni’s attention. “Don’t let me go back there.”

Deep, orange eyes softened marginally. “I will always be by your side, child.”

As he felt himself slip further into the darkness, sheer terror caused his limbs to stiffen. Would he go back there? Would he see them again? Hear the whispers? Would he feel the never-ending cold, pain, and hunger?

Warm fingers caressed the crown of his head. “Sleep. You will not go back there under my watch tonight.”

Micah chose to do something that he’d never done before.

He obeyed Agni promptly without any lingering doubts.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It looks, smells, and sounds just like a Horcrux, yes, I know (honestly wasn't my intention when I first wrote this scene). At least that’s what Yama’s going with. But before we all jump on the “you copied JK Rowling bandwagon”, let us first really hash out things (i.e. the _story_ and Yama’s intentions). If there is one thing you should *all* know by now, not everything is entirely spelled out for us in this story. It’s half-lies and half-truths and all sorts of things buried under several layers of eventual revelations.
> 
> Be that as it may… Swan has created some wonderful and aptly-timed Moodboards for Ezra, Agni, and Viktor! They are just marvelous eye candy and so very appropriate (especially after this chapter). You can see them [HERE](https://epic-solemnity.livejournal.com/).
> 
> Also-- for those of you who celebrate- have a very, very Merry Christmas!!!!


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This is a double-update 'weekend'. Make sure you all read chapter 28!!! That is a vital chapter to read...**
> 
> My family celebrated Christmas on Saturday and Sunday, so I have all day to work on Immunity. That being said, most of you are probably celebrating today. So have a very Merry Christmas. I will probably see you before the New Year. ♥

**29\. Chapter Twenty-Nine**

 

The atmosphere in the throne room was quietly intimidating.

Not an atypical occurrence, Conway supposed, as he’d seen a great deal of disputes and power plays in this very room. Today, however, seemed especially dour and grim. He imagined it was an accumulation of reasons.

Prince Ezra’s sudden health scare an obvious catalyst.

King Calder’s necessary damage control a close second. Not only for his heir’s condition in the eyes of the public, but also for the capital as a whole, whom were on the verge of recovering from the unobtrusive and supernatural attack they’d found themselves under. Several men and women claimed they’d felt a haze lift. They’d felt lighter than they had in weeks.

Conway had heard the accounts and he’d been entirely unsurprised. While his symptoms hadn’t been severe, his mind _did_ feel clearer. He understood there were others who’d been affected more so than others.

They’d been frightened. An understandable sentiment.

It would take quite a bit of effort to tidy things up and reassure the public that the situation was under control. Conway was ready to do what needed to be done, however, _this_ needed to be done first.

He kept his eyes focused straight ahead, as did the numerous of other men—and women— at his side. All those who accompanied Conway to Region 20 stood in line, their shoulders stiff and their chests parallel to the man sauntering before them. There were several members of his team with him, as well as a good number of Lord Josiah’s royal guards, Prince Ezra’s military team, and even some of the minor players, like Healers and train conductors.

No one said a word, recognizing the ominous air King Calder emitted and the gravity of the situation.

The sound of boots hitting the tiled floor was nearly inaudible, but considering the silence they’d all endured for the past several hours, the footsteps were all but deafening. The man’s gait was both authoritative and assertive, only serving to heighten the tension among the motionless spectators.

Across the room, the three ornate thrones, which sat upon the raised dais, remained vacant, empty, only accentuating the desolation across the throne room. The rising sun from the tall, encompassing windows shed light across the polished tiles, rebounding, and washing the massive room with golden hues. The gold accents in the stone columns seemed especially eager to catch the rising sun, for the small flecks of stone reflected brightly and shimmered like glitter, appearing impressive with discreet regality.

Conway then found his gaze falling on the majestic fountain in the middle of the room.

He’d seen it several times before. Admired it several times before. Yet, the granite fountain was etched with such beautiful and delicate detail, he unearthed new details each time he gazed at it. He easily identified the egret, the spirt animal of Varuna, perched midflight at the very top among other twisty, intricate vines and flowers.

Today, the fountain flowed a bit choppily, as if detecting its mater’s prickly demeanor.

The rest of the throne room remained empty and silent save for the two dozen individuals lined up like immovable statues.

King Calder crossed before him and Conway’s eyes focused just seconds on the man. The king appeared alert today. On guard. Even his wardrobe indicated his preparation for political battle rather than the tedious task of representing the capital through majestic image alone.

Choosing to forgo the robe or cloak of finery and splendor, he wore fitted brown trousers and a simple, yet expensively cut tunic. His straight, thick hair gathered into a low-slung pony. There was no braid adorning the blond tresses today, but someone like Calder did not need customs like braids or amethysts to declare himself royalty.

Much like his son.

The king stopped directly in front of him and Conway kept his expression smooth and blank, his focus straight ahead. His hands clasped behind his back, his feet sturdily positioned shoulder-length apart. A warrior’s stance.

“We lost some good men in Region 20,” King Calder began quietly. “They died protecting the crown and the future of our kingdom. They deserve nothing less than an honorable send off.”

Four men. All from Lord Josiah’s personal ranks. Conway felt a bit bitter over the loss, feeling as if he and his men did not try enough. Prince Ezra called on a debt Conway owed, a debt that separated him and his men from the main threat. That did not lessen his guilt over the matter, however. It only reminded him that he could have done better.

There would be a shift in Lord Josiah’s ranks. Conway knew the fire lord experienced quite a bit of change these last several months. The man’s previous captain, Clarence Idris, had abandoned his position, having been revealed to be aiding a defector. Since then, both men who were in line for the next captain had perished in the attack in Region 20.

Nevertheless, talking of losses, of future funerals for elite warriors, was not why King Calder asked them to assemble.

Conway knew this was about intimidation. This was about issuing a warning.

It was about King Calder prying open their mouths and grabbing hold of their tongues in effort to silence. Conway had briefed his king on the events of Region 20 the moment he’d stepped off the train. He’d told his high commander about the sheer implausibility of the events they’d witnessed. About their sudden loss of their water Elements. Of the large tidal wave appearing from nowhere.

Most importantly, he told his king about Prince Ezra’s god-like power in turn.

His account, most likely coupled with Lord Josiah’s account, had no doubt spurred the king to act quickly. Conway and the others were summoned in the middle of the night—only an hour or two after their arrival—and forced to sit in an antechamber together for several hours as they waited for the king. No one had slept. Eaten. Bathed. They’d all been tired and wired with anxiety over what the king wanted.

On a subconscious level, they all knew.

But they hadn’t known how the king would proceed.

“Concordia has suffered at the hands of our enemies for far too long,” Calder continued, moving on to the next man. “We’ve recently identified a new faction of Noir Users infiltrating the capital and setting their sights on the prince. They have since ran from their posts, defeated for the time being, allowing us to recover and rebuild stronger in their absence.”

The king’s words were hypnotizing.

If Conway did not know any better, he’d doubt his own account of the past several weeks.

“Many of us have been affected by their powers at the capital. The riots. The deaths. The brutality. All of it was a result of powerful Noir Users manipulating actions and manufacturing chaos.” Calder slowly moved alongside the warriors. “Those responsible will be hunted and executed for their wrongdoings. We will prevail as a kingdom and prevent such evil from establishing roots here again.”

Calder clasped his hands behind his back as he considered Prince Ezra’s team—sans Kai Edlen.

“However, what we experienced at the capital certainly cannot compare to what you all experienced in Region 20. You witnessed _unexplainable_ things… occurrences dripping with such power, such frighteningly real _illusions_ that they might have been real. The fear you experienced. The subjected horror. Most of us cannot fathom the brunt of their attack, but all of you managed to put aside your fear of the unknown and stand by your prince. I speak for Prince Ezra when I say we cannot properly convey how impressed we were with your valor and your duty.”

The warriors all remained stiff and unmoving. It was the Healers, the conductors, and a few of Prince Ezra’s teammates who shifted uneasily, as if they wanted to debate but found themselves too intimidated to voice their doubts aloud. They would second-guess themselves. They would question what they witnessed and wonder if their wild speculations were erroneous.

And those were King Calder’s intentions.

The king pivoted until he stood before the group, his azure gaze finding each of them with shocking intensity. “I do not encourage you to speak about the events of Region 20 to others. Undoubtedly, inquiring parties are unavoidable. If such an event occurs, and you are prompted to speak about the events, you may repeat what I’ve told you all this morning. You and Prince Ezra did a marvelous job eliminating the threat and retrieving Kai Edlen from enemy territory.”

The atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted and the trickling water in the fountain abruptly stopped flowing. The silence was unbearably earsplitting. A dark cloud might as well have moved in front of the sun and cast the room in shadow, for the chilling sense of disquiet was all but observable.

The king smiled unkindly. “Yet, if I find you’ve embellished the events with your own speculations and wild assumptions, you will have to face me directly. Slander, or any sort of defamation, against the prince in this manner is inexcusable. You will not only have my eyes on you, but the eyes of several others. Just as well, there are some in this very room who will watch and report to me immediately if tongues start flapping. Do I make myself clear?”

His words were sharp, his gaze sharper.

Conway found himself enthralled. Times like these reminded him why his loyalty was so fierce. Not only to the crown, but specifically to King Calder. The man had a certain way of speaking, moving, and performing that lured and captivated others.

He lowered himself to his knee and bent his neck. “Very clear, Your Majesty.”

Others abruptly followed suit and kneeled just as well.

With the capital on verge of recovery, things seemed clearer. Perceptions began to morph. Conway could hardly wait for this new chapter to unfold. It would be quite the political battlefield with Prince Ezra thrown into the mix. He just hoped the gods would quell their impulse to destroy and allow things to develop on their own.

 

*** * * ***

 

“I kid you not!” Weller took a large gulp of ale under the watchful eyes of the spectators. “The gods wanted to kill him!”

Disbelieving laughter and joyous ridicule erupted over the group of men. The man in question, the conductor for the conveyance unit for the prince and the royal guards, shouted amongst them all, trying to regain their attention once again with wild vigor. The tavern was full tonight, the ale was flowing, and the stories were boisterous and loud. The smell in the well-heated establishment was fragrant with both stale breath and human odor as they overloaded the acceptable capacity within the walls of the small tavern.

Earlier in the night, they’d all crowded him, realizing he’d been one of the individuals who’d accompanied the prince on his efforts to destroy the ‘Noir Users’. While he acknowledged the prince’s power and strength, he boasted he knew more about the situation than all others. They’d been intrigued. They’d wanted to hear more about the young man who’d lifted the spell across the capital and set them all free.

Little did they know that he was the target of the gods’ fury!

“It’s true!” he yelled. “Varuna wanted to kill him!”

Weller’s drunk mind abruptly chilled when he felt a water-like sensation slide down his spine as soon as he uttered the water god’s name. He looked around wildly, squinting at all the Unda men and trying to identify any notable water Elementals. He couldn’t see any. Yet, he did not imagine the drop of cold water following the track of his spine.

“Prince Ezra must be one powerful bastard if he could outmaneuver Varuna and live to tell the tale!” a man yelled with unrestrained hilarity. “We know he’s strong, Weller, but let’s not embellish things, yea? After all, why would a god want to kill a mere mortal?”

They all looked at him with amused disbelief. They all laughed at him. As much as he wanted to tell them more detail, to defend his honor, he suddenly felt very alert and sober despite his several pints of ale. King Calder’s words from that morning came back to him with startling clarity, all but resonating in his mind. He searched the tavern furiously, unable to believe the king would be in such a place.

He threw coins on the bar and waved off their derisive comments. “Bah! You lot are unreasonable!”

Throwing on his cloak, he retreated out of the tavern.

His paranoia heightened with each step he took away from the tavern. Persistent and nearly hyperventilating, he continued to look over his shoulder. He avoided the dark alleyways with vigorous tenacity. The streets were nearly silent at this time of night, but every shadow caught his attention. He knew he shouldn’t have said the things he had. He knew better not to drink in public, especially if he tended to get loose lips as the ale continued to refill his pint. He hadn’t _intended_ to go against the king’s order. 

_You will not only have my eyes on you, but the eyes of several others._

Weller hurried his steps, recalling the king’s penetrating gaze. Sweat pooled at his temples and he hurriedly raised a hand to wipe it away. Only, his fingers came back dry. He stopped suddenly, spying tiny droplets floating whimsically before his eyes. They suspended in midair, unmoving. It was very much like the rain he’d observed in Region 20 before—before…

Weller screamed shrilly and sprinted away.

His heart pounded.

No. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be _Varuna._

He was just a lowly common man!

Liquid suddenly filled his lungs, causing him to stumble to an awkward and abrupt stop. He coughed and water spilled from his lips and splashed at his feet. He landed on his knees, grasping his throat, unable to breathe.

“They’ll assume you choked on your own vomit. The drunk that you are.”

Weller’s eyes rolled up, taking in the sight of the unusual and handsome man standing before him. The man’s race was unknown. His hair an unusual brown color, his eyes too blue. A sharp, nearly relentless migraine blossomed behind Weller’s eyes as he gazed up at the tall man who almost appeared incorporeal. Water continued to pour from his mouth and nostrils, his lungs burning as they desperately sought oxygen.

The man crouched down. “You defied your king’s direct order. Now you can choke on your words.”

Weller collapsed on the cobblestones, convulsing like a fish out of water.

Unkind blue eyes watched as the struggles suddenly ceased. The water encasing the prone man suddenly turned into vomit, prompting the observer to take a step back.

Blue eyes then turned toward the distant palace, considering, before disappearing abruptly from view.

 

*** * * ***

 

“They said you had heart failure.”

Micah looked up from his book on Concordia’s monarchy history, unsurprised to see Kai conscious and attentive. The palace Healers claimed their procedure had eliminated the infection from Kai’s blood. While Kai was still required to rest and remain under Healer surveillance, as he would continue to see a relapse in energy levels, he would successfully recover.

_Physically_ , Micah emphasized to himself.

Healer Hali and Haken had both informed Micah of Kai’s condition upon waking up from his own deep sleep. After the _altercation_ on the train, Micah found his energy obliterated. His body weak, his mind slow, his eyes heavy, and his muscles liquid. He didn’t know if it was from the heart attack or if it was from his…

He closed his eyes against the painful memories.

“Under a bit of substantial stress, eh, Egan?”

Opening his eyes, he noticed Kai’s watchful gaze. Underneath the heavy snark and scorn, concern lingered noticeably, at least to those who knew the other man well enough. “Considering you are the direct cause for such stress, Edlen, I don’t see why you’d have to ask.” He shut his book with snap and leaned forward. “It was only a small mishap.”

Kai proved unimpressed. “They also said you forced yourself to wake up after it happened. In effort to appear strong to the people of the capital, you walked up the steps of the palace all on your own despite Healers strongly suggesting otherwise. You’re an idiot.”

“But a smart idiot.” Micah quirked a brow. “Don’t tell me they wouldn’t consider me weak if they witnessed Healers carrying my unconscious body into the palace.”

Kai did not respond.

His silence was answer enough.

Micah did not remember much of that day after they’d arrived at the capital. He remembered feeling so tired, yet determined to appear capable and unscathed to the rest of the palace. While the public might hear that he’d suffered from a heart attack, he did not want to draw attention to his ailing condition.

Therefore, he’d walked up those steps by himself.

Endured the stares. The skepticism.

As soon as he was out of view, he allowed Haken to lead him to his own quarters where he promptly fell unconscious for nearly a full day of blissful nothingness. Nothingness. No pain, no nightmares. Nothing to remind him of the events on the train. When he woke up, both Haken and Hali informed him of the events proceeding his arrival at the capital and Kai’s condition.

Which brought him to his current location.

He hadn’t had to deal with anyone yet. Not Calder. Not Agni. Not the team. His father and Josiah would want to speak with him shortly, he knew. The team would want answers he didn’t know how to give.

Therefore, he searched out Kai first.

A kindred spirit who’d suffered alongside him and no one would ever understand the tragedies he’d gone through.

“My father wanted to see me earlier,” Kai admitted. He adjusted himself firmly against the pillows. “They refused to allow him access.” His eye roved over Micah’s head and treated his surroundings to a slow, appreciative leer. “I suppose living in the royal heir’s wing would certainly prove to be an acceptable alternative to my room at the Edlen manor.”

“I barred him and everyone from seeing you.” Micah tapped his fingers against the hardcover book. “But especially him.”

“Your maternal instincts are so fierce, Egan.” 

“I know you are capable of handling yourself,” he continued, ignoring the scorn. “But until you can actually _handle_ yourself, Edlen, I am not going to allow Seaton access.”

“I have a lot to catch up on with what occurred during my… absence,” Kai murmured casually. “Yet, I did hear you and my father have become quite the adversaries.”

“Someone certainly is keeping you up to date.”

“Your Chosen is good company.”

Micah’s gaze sharpened.

“A bit meek and mild for someone like you,” Kai persisted with a haughty, taunting smirk. “You can effortlessly eat him alive, but I suppose there is something wholesomely endearing and innocent about him.”

“Don’t call him my Chosen.”

“Then don’t prevent my father or other visitors from seeing me.”

Micah and Kai engaged in a silent battle of wills.

“You’re going to forgive him,” Micah realized with icy distaste.

“Hardly,” Kai rebutted. “What my father did was uncharacteristic. It’s not his style of intimidation. He is cruel, but not to the point of drugging me and sending me to the outer regions. I can almost say it’s similar to your situation with your mother. Surely, you didn’t wake up Sunday mornings and have breakfast with _that_ monster. If so, I greatly underestimated the tragedies of your upbringing.”  

Micah allowed the silence to settle into an awkward break.

Kai wanted to prove himself capable and recovered, yet when the other man mentioned Ember, Micah discerned the waver in his eye and the slight tremor in his voice. He tried so well to hide it, Micah almost felt guilty for noticing.

“Seaton does not have the same excuse as my mother.”

Not particularly true.

Dushyanta’s influence had twisted Seaton and Muriel Edlen into tightly wound and unflattering knots. While Dushyanta’s power wasn’t enough to completely transform someone, it did push them into a hideous version of their true selves. Micah wondered just how fiercely Dushyanta focused on the Edlen patriarch. Had the god of enmity treated Seaton just as he had all the others? Or had he focused specifically on Seaton just to cause an even greater rift between Micah and the noble elites?

He supposed he would never know.

Momentarily, he thought back to the underground cavern and the exact moment when Dushyanta realized his fate. Micah still experienced a rush of euphoria upon remembering it.

It had been deliciously dark and every bit satisfying in its morbidity.

He only wished he’d seen the consumption in its entirety.

“And what was her excuse, exactly?” Kai asked spitefully. “What was my father’s excuse? What have you gotten yourself into, Egan, that even the _gods_ are displeased with you?”

Micah occupied himself with positioning his book snugly against his side. “Don’t you know, Edlen? It was not _gods_ that we saw that day, but Noir Users.” He offered an ugly smile that felt unnatural on his lips. “Hadn’t Haken informed you of that as well?”

Haken had certainly informed Micah of Calder’s _jamboree_ the morning after they arrived back at the capital. Apparently, his father called everyone together and all but informed him or her that they would not speak of the events that transpired in Region 20. If anyone inquired after the mission, Noir Users were responsible, the same ones who ‘put a curse’ over the capital.

As much as Micah wanted to bite his tongue over using the Noir Users as a scapegoat, _yet again,_ it did fit things flawlessly. The Noir Users, after all, had supposedly attacked the capital those many weeks ago just to kill Micah. It explained why they would abduct Kai. He’d been simple lure for Micah in those underground tunnels. 

Micah understood his father’s intentions. Applauded his foresight to meet with those who’d witnessed the events in Region 20. Nevertheless, Micah had his own concerns and questions for Calder.

“Micah.”

Reluctantly, he looked up at Kai, noticing the dead stare.

“What was it?” Kai inquired softly. “Considering I suffered at their hands, I would like answers to _what_ , exactly, held me captive and why.”

Micah felt something within him melt at the request. “You know I dabbled with daemons.”

Kai nodded, most likely remembering the Noir User guru he’d introduced to Micah. Beck. “A ridiculous interest I thought would pass with time. Something that would help you with Keegan Flint’s passing and the ambiguity behind it,” Kai murmured wearily, appearing tired. “Apparently, your interest wasn’t as whimsical nor as innocent as I had initially believed.”

“I summoned something,” Micah admitted truthfully.

Kai’s expression remained a tense-filled deadpan. “A daemon.”

“Something a bit more powerful than a daemon.” He paused. Kai deserved to know. He deserved to know the face behind the nightmares that would undoubtedly plague him for quite some time. “I summoned something called a Syphon, also appropriately named a god eater. They are… similar to daemons. Actually, they are probably more in line with gods. Their darker counterpart.”

He remembered Yama’s words.

As much as he wanted to forget for now, he remembered.

Gods, who’d been killed — destroyed— by other gods, were reborn into Syphons. He understood now why Agni said Syphons were cut from the same mold as gods. Because they _were_ gods. Gods, consumed by Syphons, on the other hand, were truly dead. Gone.

Briefly, Micah wondered what would happen in the god realm to replace Dushyanta.

Surely, a god representing something so large, like enmity and the destroyer of evil, would have to be replaced.

“Let me guess,” Kai drawled. “They can eat gods.” The aristocrat didn’t sound remotely astounded. Considering the ordeal he’d experienced, he probably found little to be surprised over with his jaded outlook.

“A logical guess.” Micah shifted, twisting his hands together with unease as he remembered the daemons and their pleas for help. He’d felt their torment so strongly that he experienced it himself. His soul had wept for them. It still did. “I don’t fault you,” he whispered quietly to his folded hands. “I don’t fault you for blaming me for what happened. I was, after all, the reason—”

“Just stop,” Kai interrupted, surprisingly angry at Micah’s beginnings of an apology. “I don’t want to hear your melodramatic stuttering.” Kai caught Micah’s eyes and held his stare with an imposing amount of obstinacy. “What’s the point of being angry with you? You didn’t intentionally summon the Syphon, did you?”

Kai wasn’t truly asking if Micah had purposely summoned the Syphon, yet he decided to explain himself anyway.

“The night Keegan died, the Noir Users were attempting to control a daemon and we were stuck in the middle of it.” Micah stared at Kai without truly seeing him. He sought to focus on anything but Keegan. “At the time, I thought they’d been insane. I didn’t believe in gods or daemons. In order to prove that Keegan hadn’t died for a silly, irrational fable, I wanted to summon one to see if they were real.”

“And you succeeded,” Kai concluded tightly. “You never told me.”

“There were a lot of things I was trying to accept at that time.”

“I know how much you dislike being proved wrong.”

Micah’s lips twitched before he sobered a moment later. “Centuries ago, after winning a war, the gods trapped the Syphons and daemons in their own realm. A place of suffering and endless torment.” He took a deep breath, saying the words, but forcing the memory, the feelings from his mind. He wanted to avoid even _thinking_ about that realm. “Daemons in our world are weakened without their home. Without their purpose. Their realm is essentially locked down.”

Kai turned the conversation. “Why would the daemons hold me captive if you reunited them with one of their own?”

That was a bit more complicated.

It was something Micah didn’t want to get into now.

The daemons hadn’t wanted to kill Micah, only garner his attention by holding Kai. How could he tell Kai that gods, daemons, and Syphons probably cared little for mortal lives? How could he tell Kai about Yama’s request— _an alliance_ —when he hadn’t come to terms with it himself? Their treatment of Kai was barbaric. Yet, Micah imagined that the daemons were not in the right frame of mind after roaming the mortal realm for so long, locked out of their home and cut off from the others. Forever living in fear of crossing paths with a god who could easily destroy them. It was still no excuse, however.

Their treatment had been unacceptable.

Yama had wanted to lure Micah close enough to speak with him, to come into contact to share his and his people’s experiences. The god of death probably also wanted to lure Agni and Dushyanta close enough to consume and grow more powerful, only, the Syphon Micah had conjured those several weeks ago beat Yama to the act.

Which begged the question of _that_ Syphon’s current whereabouts. How strong was the Syphon now? Surely, he had to be at full strength after consuming Dushyanta. No more flickering in and out of existence. No more desperate attempts of sucking the blood from Micah. Now that Micah knew Syphons had names and previous godly identities, he wondered at the identity of the Syphon he’d summoned. Just how many Syphons were there, exactly? What did the gods do to replace these destroyed deities? Simply ‘regrow’ them?

Micah was a successor to Yama. Were all successors born in the mortal realm and—

He couldn’t really be the god of death.

He inhaled deeply.

And exhaled as his body tremored.

He forced it from his mind.

“As you can imagine, several gods were angry that I summoned a god eater. Be that as it may, there may be a god or two protecting me from the others,” Micah replied numbly. “The Syphon holding you captive wanted to lure those gods close enough to consume. To grow stronger. In order to do so, the Syphon had to lure me there as well. So it used you as bait.”

“And did it succeed? Did the—the Syphon succeed?” Kai exhaled and shook his head, his brows furrowing. “I felt _something_. We all felt something when you and Lord Josiah were underground without any protection. It felt devastating and horrifying.”

“A god was consumed, yes. That is what you all felt,” Micah answered. “Dushyanta was the name of the god. He was responsible for the chaos across the capital, so I’m not too dissatisfied at the turnout.”

“Because he attacked the capital as well, I’m assuming he—this Dushyanta—was one of the gods upset that you’d summoned the god eater.” Kai frowned. “I knew there were other gods—goddesses— like Prithvi and Vayu. But just how many more are there?”

Micah shook his head. “Hundreds.”

Kai was silent for a moment, most likely trying to wrap his mind around the information. He appeared significantly more exhausted than earlier in the conversation. “And Varuna?” Kai asked. “Evidently, he sent the water to destroy us all, but you thwarted him.” For a moment, Kai seemed far away in a memory before refocusing on Micah with a fleeting grin. “He didn’t succeed…”

“He could have.”

“So he…” Kai trailed off, sighing loudly. “He’s a god I worshipped since I was a little boy. Our family performed ceremonies together in his name to ask for good wealth and fortune. It’s hard to imagine that he’d—that he’d be—well, anything but the god I’d admired since youth. Understanding. Compassionate. To know he would have destroyed you over something you hadn’t intentionally done is a bit disappointing.”

Micah observed the deep lines across Kai’s face that suggested true disenchantment over the very idea of Varuna’s involvement.

Micah had to remember, just because he did not worship the gods as a child, others felt worship vital and significant. Typically, worship and ceremonies for Agni and Varuna were private events shared with family or solitarily. Prayer. Intimate ceremonies. There were larger-scaled events that would draw groups together for mass worship, like weekly liturgy, matrimony, baptism, death, and various celebrations.

If Micah worshipped one god loyally and passionately since a child, like Kai, he would feel just as betrayed if that god had attacked a close friend and ally. He imagined he’d also feel a bit torn on how to proceed.

“Varuna would have undeniably killed us all if he’d wanted to,” Micah said.

His words were weighty with both insinuations and implications.

Kai was smart enough to grasp the meaning.

Varuna wasn’t an enemy.

Yet.

“Which god is protecting you, then?”

Micah inhaled and pressed his palms against his knees.

He didn’t want to delve so close to the truth regarding Agni’s presence in the mortal realm. In fact, he didn’t know how much Haken even remembered from the possession. Healer Hali had accompanied Haken this morning when he woke. Both had been present as they recounted the events that occurred during his unconsciousness. At the time, Micah could not discern what Haken remembered and what he did not.

“Agni,” Micah said tensely.

Kai’s eye widened. “ _Agni?_ ” he questioned with a high-pitched note of disbelief. “Well.” It seemed as if Kai were finally speechless. The other man seemed to fight off the speechlessness with another scoff. “At least it’s a powerful god protecting you. It’s hard to believe. All of this. All the gods. Their enemies—daemons. You. Stuck in the middle of all of it. This is just… If it weren’t for what I experienced—” he cut his ramblings off abruptly. “Your mother was possessed by the Syphon. What will happen to her?”

“I don’t know,” Micah replied stiffly.

Yama agreed he would release his hold from Ember _and_ Kai if Micah considered an alliance. Whether the Syphon would keep his word or not, Micah did not know. He was not optimistic that the _previous_ god of death would be so honorable in his word. Something about the entity did not sit well with Micah, and yet, he felt a connection to the man’s plight.

It’s what made him mulish.

It’s what made him completely silent on the subject. Even to Agni. Even in his own thoughts.

That _he_ —Micah—were actually the….

How long had Agni known?

The god of fire claimed he did not share information with Micah if he knew it would overwhelm him. The deity claimed he knew the appropriate time to share information. As much as Micah hated to admit it, Agni was right. Information like _this_ was entirely unwanted. If he’d known from the beginning, around the time he discovered Josiah was not Josiah, but rather Agni, that he was also the god of death, he’d…

He wouldn’t know what to think. To do.

Much as he did now.

He leaned forward suddenly, his attention and focus honed entirely on Kai. Interlocking his fingers together, he saw through Kai’s flimsy veneer. The man could ask as many questions as he’d like about Micah’s situation. He could pretend to be back to normal. Only, Micah saw past it all and recognized what the other man desperately wanted to hide. Kai wouldn’t want to talk about things that revealed ugly emotions.

He and Kai were similar in that regard.

And yet, he remembered when Kai approached him after Keegan’s death. The other man admitted that he was an open griever, someone who wasn’t afraid to face his pain and express it openly. Perhaps that only extended to events centralized on other people. What happened with Kai was his own personal nightmare. It was something private he didn’t want others to know about.

“Kai,” he addressed firmly. “I want to talk about what happened when you were with the god eater.”

Kai blanched noticeably, flustered that Micah had the audacity to broach the subject so bluntly. “Well I don’t,” he replied irritably. His tone indicated steely resolve. “There is nothing to talk about. I don’t remember half of my time there.”

Micah watched him steadily, his gaze unblinking. “That means there is half the time you _do_ remember,” he intoned quietly.

“I ate stuff I shouldn’t have. I remember chanting. I remember fire. I remember the fear and the horror. And the hope that someone would get me out of there.” Kai lifted a hand and touched the bandage over his missing eye. “That’s it. We can drop it now. Really. Nothing you say can possibly erase those memories. They will always be there. I just need to learn how to live with them.”

Micah did not look away from Kai’s determined gaze.

“You have a lot more to deal with than _I_ do,” Edlen attempted.

Unfortunately, a knock sounded on the door, interrupting their tense conversation.

Micah sat back in his chair, making sure Kai was presentable and prepared for their visitor. A stubborn grimace slanted across the blueblood’s mouth as he adjusted his posture on the mattress. He appeared pale and exhausted. Heavy lines claimed the area between his brows, evidence of his current strain.

Observing Kai, Micah couldn’t help but feel the same mind-numbing exhaustion.

Cold and weighty weariness pulled at his muscles, urging him to rest.

Something nipped at the back of his mind, telling him it was not normal to be this fatigued and drained. Not this cold. Certainly not weak enough to feel as if a part of him was back in Yama’s realm, suffering alongside the trapped entities.

Unease prickled at the back of his neck.

He could have sworn he heard a whispered, desperate plea.

“Enter,” Micah called to their visitor.

“Forgive my interruption, Your Highness.” Healer Hali offered a quick, informal bow as he lingered in the doorway. “But I believe it’s time for both of you to get your rest. His Majesty requests an audience with you and Lord Josiah this afternoon.”

“You definitely need rest for that,” Kai murmured more to himself than to Micah.

Micah considered the other boy, lost in an uneasy speculation.

Only, Kai turned to him keenly, entirely himself and all traces of Yama—gone.

“You have something to tell Healer Hali, _Your Highness_?” he asked with derisive amusement.

Standing from his chair, Micah tried to shake his apprehension. It was just a phantom relapse from dwelling in such a god-forsaken misery. Of course he’d be reminded of such a harrowing experience. It didn’t help matters that Yama had possessed Kai without any sort of physical trace. A part of Micah expected the previous god of death to overtake Kai’s body once more.

“Egan,” Kai prompted impatiently, misinterpreting Micah’s expression for one of stubborn resolve and disagreement over the current subject. “I can take care of myself. I’d like to be able to speak with my father. You need to trust me.” Something angry and bitter shifted in Kai’s eye, no doubt a result of Seaton’s actions.

As Micah regarded the other man, he realized he could not coddle Kai, especially at this critical time.

Kai wanted his trust. He was asking for it.

Exhaling in something far softer than a sigh, Micah turned to the Healer. “I appreciate your due diligence in watching over Kai’s recovery, Healer Hali. You’ve done a magnificent job. You far exceeded my expectations.” Here, the Unda Healer inclined his head, a high flush staining his cheeks. “However,” Micah continued, ignoring Kai’s noise of contemptuous exasperation. “I am going to lift the ban on visitors. As long as he’s physically well enough to see them, and as long as he consents to their presence, you may allow them visitation.”

He was already on his way out the door when Hali issued a confirmative.

Pausing, shoulder to shoulder with the young Unda, Micah reached out and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder.

Instantly, he noticed the flush across the pale skin darker while blue eyes stubbornly avoided his face. He understood the physical influence he had on others, yet he never considered actively playing it to his advantage. At least not politically. Not here, at the capital. He’d seduced others before, when he was younger and eager to explore and experiment sexually, but the thought never crossed his mind to do it _here,_ as the heir to the throne _._  

Yet, as he stood there, drinking in the obvious state of Hali’s infatuation, he began to appreciate the additional, natural-born weapon he harnessed. Attraction. Physical beauty. Should he ever need it, Micah realized it was a very useful weapon.

Perhaps he should consider using it more often.

“Again, I appreciate your hard work, Healer Hali.” He removed his hand promptly, least it linger too long and make the man uncomfortable. He wanted others to experience yearning, not smothered nervousness.

As he walked down the corridor, he heard the man stutter out a thank you.

Playing nice suddenly didn’t seem so mundane.

 


	30. Chapter Thirty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** Long chapter. Grammar mistakes. Sexual content. Erotic asphyxiation. Feel free to skip the sex scene. You won’t miss… much.

**30\. Chapter Thirty**

 

The sun was on the verge of escaping the heavy blanket of clouds, effectively washing everything in a bright, almost relentless grey hue. The citizens of Concordia swarmed the monochrome streets of the capital, visiting shops and markets, careful not to disturb the rebuilding around them. Slowly, gradually, shattered storefronts and crumbling stone facades began the process of reconstruction.

Glass, debris, and other items from the earlier attacks across the capital already cleared the cobblestoned walkways and boulevards, making a safe passageway for shop-goers and carriages. Military guards patrolled the streets, keeping a stern eye on proceedings and projecting a safe ambiance for the citizens.

Things were beginning to look up.

Sachiel settled more firmly against the wrought-iron chair and observed the bustling streets with a cool, jaded eye. He watched as the workers, donned in dirty and greasy coveralls, lay stone and brick. His unenthusiastic scrutiny then landed on the new glass being inserted into the display windows of quaint and charming boutiques.

Inhaling, he could smell the new dawn.

Closing his eyes, he listened as platform shoes and expensive soles struck against the cobblestones around him. He could hear the heavy skirts brush against the ground, a whisper and barely-there obtrusion as they courted around their male escorts. Horseshoes clapped against the pavement, drowning out the sounds of the well-greased carriage wheels. At his back, inside the café, porcelain dishes clinked together in the kitchens with an upbeat and quick tempo, relaying the stress of their busy hour.

The conversations of the other café patrons remained a persistent murmur. Sachiel had grown bored listening to nonsensical gossip long ago and had since dwelled in his own thoughts.

It was nearly revolting.

The residents of the capital had an extra spring to their steps. Their moods noxiously cheerful. The evil was gone. Vanquished and conquered by the heir to the throne and his royal subjects. Past misbehaviors of the citizens were brushed aside and blamed on the Noir Users. After all, they truly couldn’t be at fault for how they acted under the influence of the Noir User curse.  

Sachiel’s nostrils pinched and his gloved fingers tightened on the teacup.

Inside, he raged.

Outwardly, he remained a steady and calm patron.

He was impressed with Ezra’s victory. Proud. Smug at the very qualified and impressive specimen they had on the throne. However, Sachiel was one of the first supporters of Prince Ezra; therefore, he saw little to appreciate in Ezra’s late-arrival allies. They were all conformists. Cowards. Hiding behind others and observing from a distance until it was _safe_ to support the royal heir. They would blame their hesitation on the Noir Users, claiming they were _not in the right frame of mind._

He understood the importance of more numbers. More allies for Ezra— who’d started with so little. He would not make a large fuss over the men and women who crawled out of the woodwork and supported Ezra. Just as long as they knew their place. Just as long as Ezra knew they’d turn their backs just as quickly if things soured once again.

Setting down his teacup, he reached into his pocket and withdrew the gold pocket watch.

Noting the time, his lips pressed into a pleased, satisfied smirk.

Not everyone would be able to blame Noir Users for their past actions.

He could hardly wait.

_Twelve minutes…_

Sachiel, for one, would not allow the highbrow aristocrats to walk away unpunished after dishonoring him so publically. So disgracefully. The Noir Users undoubtedly affected _everyone_ across the capital. Not every individual turned into graceless and hideously barbaric creature. Sachiel vowed to seek retribution on Seaton and Muriel Edlen for their transgressions.

Not only for dishonoring _him,_ but also for Kai…

Rage settled deep, an unfamiliar sentiment he hadn’t experienced for quite some time. When he heard about Kai, he’d been livid. He could only imagine what Ezra had felt, after being continuously deceived and mislead about his right-hand man’s location. Sachiel tried so hard to imagine the prince’s expression when he learned the truth.

 _Varuna,_ the boy would have been sensually _beautiful_ in his anger!

Pity Sachiel hadn’t been there to collect that memory for future, private gratification.

“Are these suitable, Councilman Sachiel?”

Unhappy at the interruption of his musing, yet acknowledging it was not the appropriate place to dwell, Sachiel turned toward the sharply dressed server. The man held out a suitable-sized box in which Sachiel plucked impatiently. He opened the lid, scrutinizing the chocolates. Adorned on top of each individual chocolate were flakes of gold leaf.

Sachiel smiled thinly and tilted it this way and that, looking for any flaws. “Perfect,” he murmured approvingly. “Almost fit for a… prince.” He closed the lid and handed it back to the male server. “Satin ribbon should do. Preferably amethyst, but sapphire is a suitable alternative.” As the server bowed at the waist and made to depart, Sachiel called him back. “I’d also like another truffle box in raspberry white chocolate.”

Kai always did prefer white chocolate.

As the server bowed once more and disappeared, Sachiel’s attention honed across the street and toward a passing royal guard. And then another. And another. The royal blue of their robes indicated it was Calder’s men suddenly swarming the streets. The Talise royal crest on the back of the robes, and the expensive fabric of the material, littered the crowded noble streets with a presence of royalty.

Even against nobles, it struck one senseless how much higher royalty hung and hovered above the rich society. There was something mystical about royalty to common-folk. Even noblemen. Something mystical and untouchable.

Something of excitement.

Something of romantic legend.

Citizens paused in their tracks, watching with wide eyes and careful observation as Calder’s guards zigzagged through the streets, young boys quickly following their wake and posting recent Royal Decrees on display windows and posts.

Sachiel glanced down at his watch.

_Seven minutes._

A snake-like smile graced his lips as he stood from his chair, setting down his cloth napkin. Other patrons on the outside patio followed suit, quickly migrating to one of the posted decrees. Sachiel did not need to read it. King Calder spoke with his Royal Council just that morning and informed them of the new law. He could hear the wild murmuring of the citizens and the sharp exclamations.

Yes.

Most everyone thought they could run and hide under the excuse of ‘Noir Users made them do it’.

But Calder had impressed Sachiel this morning in his insistence that they’d still be punished.

It was delicious. This decree of Calder’s had surprised Sachiel, only because he’d grown used to Calder’s _‘politically correct’_ and passive aggressive demeanor. Most forgot that the king was ruthless with his rule. With his kingdom’s laws. When the Igni Empire merged with the Unda Capital, Calder had done so much to try to appear both fair and gracious. A gracious, yet strict king.

It was necessary, Sachiel understood. Necessary to appear likeable and fair to the citizens of Concordia as they recovered and adapted from such a harsh, painful war. Calder even went so far to ease away from the automatic death penalty and construct Region 0, the prison for men and women who broke the law. Even if Sachiel did not agree with Region 0, he understood, from another perspective, how useful it was to use free labor.

“Here you are, Councilman.”

Sachiel calmly accepted the bag of wrapped chocolates. As he peered inside the bag, he found himself a bit disappointed they hadn’t had purple ribbon in stock. The prince certainty deserved a bit of splurge. He’d heard of the prince’s condition and refused to believe it. _Heart failure._ Such a condition was reserved for old men past their prime.

He hummed low in this throat.

What Prince Ezra needed was a good bottle of whiskey, however, Sachiel carefully designed such enticement for a more intimate celebration. He’d ask the prince to attend his manor for a glass or two of only the best whiskey as they spoke of their next step.

Preferably alone.

Without Cordelia Abital.

Even without Kai, as much as Sachiel enjoyed the boy’s presence. He just wanted Ezra _alone._

Was it wrong of him to want the prince all to himself for an evening?

“This will do,” he said in response. Closing the bag, he offered the server the amount of his bill, plus an extra couple of gold coins.

The server bowed low and Sachiel walked off the café patio and onto the streets. Easily maneuvering between the carriages and the hoard of men and women crowding the Royal Decrees, he paused in front of a display window. He admired the leather gloves with great zeal. They were sharp and handsomely made. Fingerless too. It reminded him of Prince Ezra’s stubborn decision to glove his undeniably tapered hands.  

Sachiel issued a frustrated tsk as he fished out his pocket watch once again.

He had no time.

However, he’d come back. He had to come back. Fingerless gloves were not entirely common, at least here in the noble district as men and women preferred full coverage. He had a hunch, however, when people became aware of the prince’s insistence of wearing fingerless gloves, there would be more shops selling such fashion. More men cutting their hair. More men and women looking to buck tradition.

He walked through the streets, hearing the desperate and afraid gossip.

Amongst the fear, he heard the excitement and approval.

Sachiel shook his head, his pale, blond locks nearly falling from their intricate fold. No matter what step royalty took, there would _always_ be naysayers. Always the outspoken audience who thought they could do better. Always the naysayer who just _despised_ royalty and would always disagree with the crown just to cause waves.

He cared little for these type of men.

He checked his pocket watch again, realizing he should have taken a carriage.

He was a few minutes late. The decree stated strictly at _noon._

Sachiel tutted and hurried through the alleyways and the perfectly paved streets. He entwined through the businesses and barely had time to admire the still and serene man-made ponds and streams he passed on his way. Up ahead, he could see the crowds. He could hear the hush and silence. He pressed onward. Men and women made room for him as he swam through the hoard of observers.

Up ahead, he could see them on the platform.

Three, prone figures hung limply from nooses.

Sachiel halted, his breath stopping, his heartrate accelerating with pleasure.

Lord Josiah’s guards intermixed with King Calder’s guards, creating a united front in the eyes of the public as they publically executed the ones responsible for genocide. Amongst their victims: biracial children and families.

Sachiel stopped, stood tall, and admired the chillingly beautiful scene.

As much as he adored Prince Ezra, supported him entirely, he acknowledged the young man’s insistence to be a bit… _liberal_. For the people. For every individual. Fair. Empathetic. Sachiel wondered if such a sentiment came with youth. This approach from Calder, this pubic execution of ‘known Noir User involvement’, demonstrated his conservative and monarchy approach. Sachiel hoped, beyond hope, that Calder would start to teach his son the importance of executing garbage like this. To set an example for the entire population of Concordia.

Prince Ezra would soon realize the power and the sway he held over thousands and thousands of people.

It was vital he remain intimidating and threatening, just as well as well-liked.

Otherwise, the rebels would find a platform secure enough to stand on and create all sorts of chaos.  

 

*** * * ***

 

They’d—the palace servants— opened all the drapes in his sitting room to reveal the large, encompassing windows. Sunlight poured inside the room, abolishing shadows and even turning the black throw pillows on his settee a heavy, sun-hued gray.

The king was visiting, after all.

They did not want the sitting area to appear like sickness.

Even if Micah preferred the darkness, he did not mind the political implications behind a healthy, deceptive brightness. Though the sunlight most likely highlighted the unnatural paleness to his skin, he believed the atmosphere was bright enough to distract.

“You should eat,” Calder encouraged, motioning toward the light, informal lunch in front of them. The platters were stacked high in a tier-like structure. “You look emaciated.”

“I appreciate that observation.” Micah, perched stiffly at the corner of the settee, stared at the perfectly cut triangle sandwiches. They’d removed the crust and the bread appeared unnaturally white. They were tiny. Dainty. Too pretty to eradicate. “But I’m not very hungry,” he replied dully. “Please help yourself.” 

It was a lie. He was hungry.

Famished.

A hollow, persistent ache settled in his stomach. However, the thought of food made him nauseous.

Micah stared out the windows, more than aware of the two men watching him silently.

_Agni._

Stiffening further on the couch, he felt the fire god’s scrutiny as the silence stretched between the three occupants of the room. As if immune to the sun’s natural powers, Josiah sat on the single armchair near the empty hearth, basking in an almost ethereal shadow. He did not hide his intense regard of Micah, for the orange eyes watched his every, minuscule move.

Micah did not remember much after Agni brought him back from Yama’s realm. He remembered the god restraining him, the panic, the hate, and the way their Elements had entwined until they were one.

Being in the man’s presence now brought with it conflicting emotions.

Usually wired and giddy with the challenge the man’s presence provoked, Micah felt oddly calm and centered at the moment. It was the first time since Yama’s attack that he actually felt secure and _warm._ The heavy blanket he’d become quite familiar with these past several hours remained untouched next to him. Abandoned.

He felt like his normal self as he basked in the red-gold hue of Agni.

Only, Agni’s presence also brought with it naked antipathy. The red-gold aura reminded him of the daemons and their cage of endless torment. Almost as if he were victims alongside the Syphons and daemons, Micah couldn’t help but experience resentment toward Agni, seeing him as responsible along with all other gods.

Calder leaned forward, stirring Micah’s quick attention.

As if trying to lead by example, the man selected a porcelain plate and selected various items from the generously filled food tiers. Plump fruits, vibrant vegetables, and a dainty little sandwich.

Unexpectedly, he deposited the plate on Micah’s lap.

“Eat,” he encouraged. Calder then continued to pick his own selection from the spread, hardly paying much attention to the less than enthused reaction from his son. “The Healers tell me you haven’t eaten well. It is vital you restore your health.”

Micah stared listlessly down at the food on his lap. Unmoved. Not at all tempted. “Healers with their unmatched training and medicines will restore my health just fine,” he informed numbly. “I am unconcerned with my recovery. I feel just fine.”

“Tonics can aid in your recovery,” Josiah intervened slyly. His smooth and refined voice sent shockwaves across Micah’s chest. “You need to meet them halfway with your own determination to better yourself.”

Micah finally turned and met those penetrating eyes. “In order to _reap_ future benefits?” he murmured spitefully.

Orange eyes flashed before they narrowed.

Micah didn’t know how much Agni knew or how long he’d known. There was no doubt Agni knew about Micah’s status as the god of death—or—the anticipated god of death. It was why he could stand so confidently beside Micah when all the other gods seemed uneasy at the revelation. Yes. Agni knew. What the deity probably didn’t know was the extent of Yama’s ‘return’.

Yama requested Micah’s consideration of an alliance.

He knew what Yama meant by that. Agni couldn’t know about Yama. Micah had to keep his silence on the matter and remain a cooperative _host_ least Agni find a way to thwart Yama. At the moment, he didn’t know what he felt about Yama’s proposal or the extent of Yama’s plans.

He didn’t… he just didn’t _know_.

Nor did he want to talk about it with Agni until he was certain. Until he could stand on something other than uncertainty and vague sentiments on the matter. It felt odd. He would have thought he’d feel exuberant over keeping something from Agni, only, he felt… empty at the victory. Micah was accustomed to dealing with things himself, but something felt wrong about keeping silent on this matter. For once, he wanted Agni to be entirely honest with him regarding his intentions for Micah, regarding Yama and the deity’s past, regarding _everything._ In turn, Micah would be just as open.

Such a scenario did not conjure itself.

And he felt isolated because of it.

“How many casualties at the capital?” Micah posed the question to his father, hoping to shake his unnerving emptiness.  

“The night you left with your team, there were only a few casualties but an abundance of destroyed properties,” Calder said as if rehearsing a line he’d repeated numerous times beforehand. “I had to instruct my men to disband the riots before sending them after you. If I had known the severity of your situation, I would have sent them sooner.”

Calder looked up then, catching and holding Micah’s eyes.

Something told Micah that his father wasn’t entirely naïve about what happened in Region 20. The king had warned the others, after all, that there would be no talk of what truly occurred in Region 20. Conway Edlen and Josiah most likely informed Calder about Varuna’s attack.

“The urgency was at the capital,” Micah argued. “Your judgement was true.”

Calder’s lips pursed at Micah’s political response. “Let us not be coy, Ezra. The urgency was centralized around _you_.” He lifted a brow. “Be that as it may, what transpired in Region 20, and at the capital, still does not give you any excuse for running away. Your duty and your bequest belong here at the palace. You must understand that recklessly leaping into danger by yourself is a ridiculously irrational thing to do. You are not a disposable common man.”

“I wasn’t alone.”

Calder proved unimpressed.

“They may be impressive warriors at the academy, and in their own right, but they are not suitable to be your only protection. Once you are crowned, these situations cannot happen. You have a duty _here._ You delegate pressing matters to others you can trust.”

Micah recoiled both physically and mentally at the very thought. “If I’d _delegated,_ they would have never rescued Kai! The moment _your_ warriors would have entered those caves without personal investment in the matter, they would have turned heel and abandoned the mission. Claimed Kai was either dead or not there.”

Calder set down his plate and leaned forward, his stare animated. “Which is why I said you’d delegate to someone you can trust.”

“I don’t trust _anyone_ in this palace,” Micah hissed aggressively.

Josiah cleared his throat, interrupting the fierce argument between father and son.

“If I may,” he intervened silkily, earning the sudden and displeased attention of both Micah and Calder. “You must understand and acknowledge your father’s point, Ezra. You _were_ reckless. You had _no idea_ what you were doing. Moreover, I am certain the thought never crossed your mind that the kingdom needs you. Putting yourself in danger without proper protocol and protection was erroneous. Not only for the kingdom if they’d lost their prince, but you’d also put your team in unnecessary danger as well.”

“I—”

“On the other hand,” Josiah continued, blissfully ignoring Micah’s beginnings of a rebuttal. “The boy did try to appeal to you, Calder, by explaining the situation when he attacked Seaton and Muriel Edlen that morning. You simply brushed aside his concerns, effectively incurring his temper and igniting his more rebellious nature. And _he does_ have a very prevalent rebellious nature.” The man seemed pleased with himself. “I simply admire the times when you are both wrong and I have the opportunity to point it out.”

Micah and Calder both sat back, the same lines of irritation crossing their features.

As much as Micah wanted to avoid admitting it, he and Calder shared a great deal of traits.

Yet, they were also so different that it made conversations sometimes difficult.

“Don’t assume I haven’t forgotten you were the reason he was able to dodge the protective detail, Josiah,” Calder informed sternly.

Josiah was the picture of perfect innocence as he busied himself with picking a piece of imaginary lint from his sleeve. “I only assumed he was going to the academy for his team. I never imagined he’d hop on top trains and hitch a ride to Region 20. Perhaps your men should have shut down the tracks immediately, no?”

Calder’s lips got even thinner.

“The citizens all claimed their minds felt clearer, as if they were waking from a long dream,” Micah started in an attempt to change the subject. He would not apologize for his actions just as he knew Calder would not apologize for his. “Did you feel the same, _father_?” he asked, trying to hide his scorn, but knowing Calder detected it anyway.

Calder certainly appeared different.

His eyes seemed sharper. His entire posture far more animated with a ghost of calm intimidation.

Calder settled himself in the armchair, focusing on Micah once more. “If you’re insinuating that my past actions were clouded and misguided…” he trailed off and crossed his legs. He placed a hand on either armrest and gazed steadily at his son. “I can say that my mind does feel much clearer, yes. I found myself at standstill at times, torn between acting one way and acting another.”

Micah assumed as much.

Dushyanta had influenced Calder like all the others.

From the very start, his father did not know how to act around him. He did not know how to proceed with the adult-version of his lost child. With such a headstrong and passionate heir, Calder recognized that Micah could, indeed be a threat to his rule. When Dushyanta spun his web, it only encouraged those doubts and uncertainties. On a subconscious level, Calder would have agreed with the nobles for creating division. Yet, another part of Calder would refrain from actively working alongside the nobles.

He hadn’t cast Micah away during Dushyanta’s influence. Instead, he’d seemed both protective and antagonist at the same time.

Micah did not fault his father for his actions. Or his inaction.

However, he was curious how they would cohabit from the point forward. Just what did Calder want from Micah? How would their relationship progress? Change? How would they come to an agreement over things when their perceptions seemed to differ? Calder supported and favored the nobility. He supported the regions and villages close to the capital. Whereas Micah felt the need to shower the outer regions with more attention and give equal opportunity to every citizen.

Already, he knew he’d butt heads with his father a great deal. They would struggle to see eye to eye.

It was undeniable.

As such, Calder would always have the final say.

Micah pressed his lips together and smiled. “Everyone can finally come to their senses. A relief, I suppose, to those who have truly committed evils during this dark time. Judgements will be postponed if not entirely abolished,” he surmised quietly. “Especially for the noblemen who designed to destroy the heir to the throne. Especially to the Edlen patriarch who sent his son to the pits of purgatory. Defenseless.”

Calder hardly seemed impressed with Micah’s dripping sarcasm.

“Under normal circumstances, Seaton would have never sent his one and only male heir to Region 20. No matter how much Kai turned his back on his father’s legacy. _That,_ I am certain, Ezra. Seaton told me just this morning he only remembers sending Kai to Region 5, though Muriel admitted he remembers Region 20 as the final destination.”

Stiffening, Micah could feel his rage pique once again. “Whatever influence you think cast itself over the capital did not encourage this behavior. It simply brought it to the surface.” He placed his plate of food on the cushion next to him, nauseous. “That man you allow so much power is truly that snake you witnessed these past few weeks.”

Calder blinked lazily, not even bothered over Micah’s mounting anger. “Seaton and Muriel will be dealt with in due time. I prefer to lead them into a false sense of security before I act. It’s far more enjoyable that way.”

That gave Micah pause.

The calm, unruffled, almost vindictive reassurance seemed to hold weighty promise.

It also surprised Micah into speechlessness.  

Calder selected a few purple grapes from the fruit spread, most likely aware he held Micah’s unwavering attention. “As for those other criminals who roamed the streets and filled the capital with violence and _manslaughter_ …” He snapped a grape between his teeth and calmly plucked another from its stem, intentionally avoiding all the green ones. “Really, what king would I be if I punished those who did not have any control over their actions during a Noir Users attack? They were entirely innocent. Completely unable to control themselves.”

Micah only continued to stare, feeling something in him shift at this side of Calder.

The man’s words were so soft and carefully spoken, he felt himself entranced.

“Unquestionably a vindictive and unfair king,” Josiah played along quietly.

“Indeed,” Calder agreed with vigor.

Micah looked between the two men. Settling further against the settee, he felt his own lips twitch over what he assumed a clever scheme that both Calder and Josiah conspired. “Oh?” he inquired, impatient. “You found a way to appear fair, but also punish the ones responsible for murder?”

“There is a new Royal Decree that calls for harsher punishment for Noir User involvement and practice,” Calder informed.

Micah felt his smirk falter just a bit. “The same law I argued against?”

“The very same one, my son.” Calder considered the strawberries before forgoing them and reaching for another grape. “Such stipulations need to be put into place after what transpired at the capital. The citizens need to feel as if the crown is taking this threat seriously and being proactive against future attempts. Therefore, practicing and studying Noir Magic is prohibited. Any possession, any practice, of such art, will be under review by the crown. If it is found that the individual in question is guilty of the dark arts, they may face the death sentence.”

Micah’s eyes narrowed. “You and I both know the people who committed murder during the… capital attack… were not practicing Noir Magic.”

“Incorrect deduction, Ezra. After recent review, we found an arguable amount of Magi materials in their possessions,” Josiah informed smugly. “Damning evidence, isn’t it? And they even gave us a confession.”

“I’m sure they did,” Micah drawled spitefully. “While I wouldn’t be surprised at the materials conveniently set in their possession _by the crown,_ which then points to their equally convenient involvement during the capital attack, what will stop future accusations against innocent people?” He sensed Calder’s exasperation. “I’m not against the punishment of the men who’d murdered innocents. What I’m against is the death penalty on something we cannot truly prove to be accurate. It may just be the opportunity for others to frame their enemies.”

He wasn’t upset with Calder and Josiah for planting evidence against the men responsible for killing innocents under Dushyanta’s control. He approved of it, actually. Nevertheless, he could not stand by the new stipulation of harsher punishment against Noir Magic.

“Punishment equates to either the death penalty or a life sentence in Region 0. I do not foresee using the death penalty again unless we can prove with complete certainty.” He noticed Micah’s pinched expression. “What would you have me do, Ezra?” Calder calmly stood from his chair and grabbed his cloak. “Shall I, instead, call for immediate executions of young, ignorant men wanting to summon god eaters?”

It took Micah a second, a mere _moment,_ to comprehend Calder’s query.

By that point, Calder was already approaching the door to his rooms.

“How did you know?” Micah was not one to let the conversation die on _that note._ He looked at Josiah, who remained entirely impassive.

“I have my sources,” Calder informed stiffly. “Be that as it may, I do not anticipate any further actions from our god. Therefore, I feel as if blaming it this one time on the Noir Users is more than acceptable.”

“I highly doubt the gods are finished.”

“Varuna will protect this kingdom, as such, so will Agni.” Calder smiled mysteriously. “They are under your protection, Ezra. Perhaps it is best to show a bit of gratitude toward the gods. We have a very impressive church in the palace. Dedicated to both Agni and Varuna. I encourage that you visit it. It truly is a spectacular work of art. They did a remarkable job of combining both gods as one place to worship.”

“He speaks to you.” The entire idea was ludicrous to Micah. He stood up slowly, a disbelieving smile in place. “Varuna. Doesn’t he?”

“I am the king of _His_ people,” Calder replied honestly. “Does it truly surprise you that I intermittently hear from him?”

Micah floundered for a moment. He supposed it shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. Varuna was proud of his people, as were Agni and Prithvi. All three gods would somehow influences the crown, or the ruling bodies, and make sure things continued running how they deemed. The only exception to this was Vayu, as he had neglected the High Priests in the Eurus Empire for quite some time.

“Varuna wishes to speak with you privately,” Calder continued. “Perhaps its due time to seek him out in prayer. In the royal house of worship.”

“Hardly needed, Calder,” Josiah intervened possessively. “Agni is already in contact with Ezra.”

Micah looked at the fire god from the corner of his eye, then back to his father. “I request an assignment,” he suddenly exclaimed, completely turning the conversation from the extremely uncomfortable subject of Varuna and Agni. “An assignment of my choosing.”

Calder offered Josiah a lightly amused expression before focusing on Micah. “Yes?”

“You gave me a task during last council meeting, do you remember?”

Calder, appearing resigned to where this was going, inclined his head. “I requested a proposal of how to assist the outer regions, yes.”

“The first step in extending an olive branch is to clean up and restore their village. The main village of Region 20 was affected by the _Noir User_ attack,” Micah informed sternly. “Buildings demolished. Water flooding their streets and their underground sanctuaries. I want to oversee the reconstruction myself. I want men. I want gold. I want materials, food, and resources,” Micah continued unwaveringly with a raised chin and a firm gaze. “I want you to give me what is necessary to restore what they lost.”

“Manpower is needed here to reconstruct,” Calder informed sharply.

“Then give me prisoners from Region 0 to assist.”

“Absolutely _not_ ,” Josiah argued against the very idea. “There is enough men here to loan you. Military men will be happy to assist if you cannot find other members.” That earned a cold stare from Calder. “Humor the boy, Calder.”

All three stood with an obvious air of impasse.

Micah couldn’t help but remember what Cordelia said about all three of them being leaders to three separate movements. They all drew their own allies with various backgrounds and differing endgames. Their followers were preparing numbers and readying themselves for possible confrontations. Were they destined to become enemies one day? Or would they continue to operate under false courtesy, bound by blood?  

“I want you here,” Calder stressed firmly. He walked across the room, nearing Micah. “I want you here with me. You have yet to stay in the palace longer than a fortnight.”

“Partly your own doing,” Micah countered. “As soon as you pulled me from the academy, you sent me on a political tour with Josiah.”

“That was needed.”

“So is this.”

Calder placed his hands on Micah’s shoulders. “You are unwell.”

“I will go when I am fully recovered.”

An exasperated laugh sounded from Calder. “You and I can both look through possible candidates to send to Region 20 as an overseer. It does not have to be you.”

“I want it to be me,” Micah rebutted with frustration. “While I am there, I will find ways to improve their infrastructure. You know this is a passion of mine. I cannot let this go without at least trying.”

Calder shook his head and patted Micah’s cheek. “I will think about it.”

It was a clear dismissal and an even clearer denial. Micah looked down at his feet before levelling Calder’s retreating back with focused perseverance. “I can take the crown with a smile and a wave.” That stopped Calder short. “I can just as easily make that a very, very difficult progression. The choice is yours.”

“Blackmail is the most unrefined way to get what you want.”

“That may be so, but you leave me with little choice,” Micah said. “I find the prospect of sitting on that throne far more unappealing now than I ever did before. Allow me this small bit of freedom before my coronation. Without you and without Josiah breathing down my neck.”

Calder’s expression was stone as he turned and retreated to the door once more. “I will think about it.”

The man then exited the room without further comment.

Micah immediately turned to Agni, unable to hide his grimace. “I don’t want to talk to you right now. You can leave just as well.”

If anything, Agni appeared elated. “You’re rather prickly today.”

“Clearly, that does not dissuade you.”

“I find it endearing.”

“I’m glad my misfortunate amuses you, Agni.”

“What is there to feel misfortunate about, my Ezra?” Josiah crossed his ankle over his knee and observed Micah from the other side of the room. “You got your… _friend_ back in decent health. Dushyanta, the persistent fool and idiot that he was, is dead. His influence gone across the capital. There were little to no casualties across the general population. Your team saw no casualties. You were able to blame this entire situation on Noir Users and come out looking like a hero. Moreover, the gods will cease their meddling and keep to themselves.”

“I highly doubt that.”

When more deities became aware of his status as the god of death, Micah did not doubt there would be even more gods and goddesses that revealed themselves to him. Perhaps in efforts to destroy. Maybe just to observe.

“You doubt what?”

“That gods will cease their meddling.”

Agni propped his head against his hand and smirked. “You may be right about that. Gods and goddesses will always meddle. But at least you have Varuna’s and Prithvi’s protection along with my own. I will never leave your side. Ever.”

Micah turned his shoulder on the man and his promise, running his hand across the back of the armchair to quell the spasm of fear. He eyed the sleeping chambers, his bones exhausted, and his mind unsure. His stomach hurt. He didn’t feel good. Mentally. Physically. He felt vulnerable and he hated—no— _despised_ that he would feel such a weak and defenseless emotion.

Even if Agni did not know of Yama— and Micah’s knowledge over the god of death— they still had several things worth concerning themselves over. There were _two_ Syphons now, the gods wouldn’t relent, and surely, Agni couldn’t pretend Micah hadn’t overheard his conversation with Varuna. Undeniably, Agni wanted _him_ to broach the topic first. The fire god wanted Micah to ask what his conversation entailed with Varuna. He wanted to know what Micah experienced on the train with Yama.

However, Micah refused to bend first. 

He didn’t _want to_ broach the subject!

The thought of doing so made his stomach twist even further. Perhaps he just didn’t want to know the truth. Being so blindsided by all the revelations helped him harbor a sliver of doubt that maybe things weren’t true.

“I cannot help you if you are not open with me, Ezra,” Agni replied, evidently turning solemn. The rustle of fabric indicated the man stood from his chair. “Keeping everything inside will surely implode if left alone for too long. I am here now. Ask me questions.”

“I don’t want to _talk_ ,” Micah said a bit more forcibly than he intended. “Especially with you.”

“You will eventually have to talk about what happened. It is inevitable. I have questions what happened and I know you have questions—”

“And I don’t want to hear _your_ answers. I’m not in any mood for you to lead me down an entirely different path from the truth.” He sighed, his anger beginning to diminish. “I’m done,” he informed tiredly. He turned away from his bedchambers and faced Agni, who started to slowly advance closer to his immobile form. “I’m done with the lies, with the omissions, with the circles. I’m done asking you questions and would rather find the answers myself. So there is no need to _talk._ ” 

“Oh?” Josiah’s eyebrows rose with wicked amusement. “From where I’m standing, it appears as if we should talk. You are harboring ill-conceived notions that will continue to fester until you self-destruct with obsessive paranoia.”

“I hardly think they are _ill-conceived_ notions,” he refuted, keeping face despite the man stopping within reaching distance. He inhaled deeply, turning his torso to face Agni fully. “What I witnessed, what I overheard, are all very concrete versions of the truth.”

“You are currently drowning in emotions and sentiments you cannot fully understand or acknowledge. You’ll avoid these emotions for a time, and when you will be ready to theorize, you will come up with your own speculations. Theories that are untrue. You will become resentful and reckless. I know you well.”

Micah reared his head. “Of course you know me well. You _designed_ me.”

His words dripped with spite. With scorn.

Upon Micah’s comment, Josiah’s eyes—no—Agni’s eyes brightened victoriously. And why shouldn’t he be pleased with himself? Micah fell right into his hands by giving into his anger and essentially spelling out one of the issues that bothered him.

Agni shuffled closer, their chests parallel, nearly touching. The attraction, both hostile and aggressive, seemed agonizingly provoking. Micah wanted to close the distance, to touch, to hurt, yet he wouldn’t be the one to succumb this time around.

“On the contrary,” Agni whispered deliberately, inclining his head just enough to put their eyes on equal levels. The pull grew stronger. Tenser. “I’ve observed you throughout the years. I’ve come to know you quite intimately. Both your shortcomings and your strengths. You are your own self with your own unique disposition. For example, I did not request a counterpart who was frustratingly and irritatingly stubborn.”

Typically, their interactions were stimulating enough when they focused strictly on the intellectual and emotional aspect of their relationship. Physical attraction was rarely a factor, simply because they generally kept a respectable distance from one another during their interactions.

_Generally._

Otherwise, such as instances like this, the allure was too distracting. Micah knew there would always been a physical attraction to Agni. Always. Not lust, not affection, but something with darker undertones that excited Micah to the point of unfulfilled and frustrated arousal. It was like sharp animosity warped and coated with a basic and carnal need to claim physically, to please, to consume.

_To give in._

Unexpectedly, Agni moved first.

His warm palm slid down Micah’s cheek. As he shifted even closer, his other hand paused for a moment before gracing the top of his hipbone. “You are powerful. Intelligent. Unique,” Agni breathed avidly. He leaned forward, his lips teasing Micah’s averted cheekbone. He then dragged his lips across the cheek and descended toward Micah’s ear. “You are your own force to be reckoned with. A suitable and justifiable _equal_ to _me._ ”

Agni pulled back, continuing to cradle the left side of Micah’s face.

Small lines of amusement creased the corners of eyes as he regarded Micah’s hard, stubborn gaze. “Ah, yes, you requested no talking,” Agni murmured fondly. “If you will not welcome my verbal reassurance, perhaps it is the physical comfort you prefer today?” His long fingers brushed against Micah’s frantically beating pulse, clearly wanting to draw attention to his obvious enthusiasm.

And Micah _did_ want it.

Badly.

So bad.

If he couldn’t connect with Agni through words and conversation, at least he could dull his stark isolation through physical proximity.

He never thought Agni would offer a sexual proposal so blatantly. Yet, despite the man’s casual and cool inquiry, Micah noted the fine tremor in those confident fingers as they ran across his pulse point. He observed the man’s pupils blown wide, evidence of his arousal. Yes, Agni wanted it just as much as he did.

_Alas._

Micah grabbed Josiah’s wrist with a bruising hold before pushing it away from him.

He enjoyed the flash of blood-orange eyes as Agni clearly reacted to the rejection.

It tasted delicious.

“Next time you ask for sex, make sure it’s not in my uncle’s body.”

Josiah stepped back, as if struck.

Gradually, his expression morphed into bored understanding. He offered Micah a look of quiet disdain before he dropped suddenly to the settee. Keeping his eyes on Micah all the while, Josiah suddenly turned limp and boneless as he slouched against the cushions. Micah stared uncomprehendingly as Josiah fell unconscious, his aura no longer red-gold, but a calming and entirely mortal-silver.

Warning bells went off in his mind, soon accompanied by the very slight burn of the gold pendant around his neck.

“Will I call your bluff, Ezra?” a cultured voice inquired behind him.

It was similar, in a sense, as the voice he always heard, yet different in the magnitude of the smooth, serpentine tenor. Micah stared at the far wall with unfiltered shock and excitement. _Oh god,_ he thought, his pulse beating even more quickly. Agni, the true Agni, currently stood behind him. He remembered the god boasting he’d find a way to appear to Micah in his true form, that he’d appear corporeal when they decided to be intimate.

He just hadn’t…

Schooling his features, Micah turned.

He’d already seen Agni’s true form. Yet, at that time, he’d only caught a glimpse, a distorted reflection through a wall of flames.

Agni was handsome.

It came to little surprise. His golden-tanned features took on an almost serpentine quality with his blood orange eyes. The eyes were what gave his handsome features a precarious feel, a cautionary indicator that beauty was only a thin, deceptive veneer. Otherwise, he was a model male specimen. Perfect features. Symmetrical. Masculine.

His nose long and straight, his smirking mouth and lips not large, yet not too small.

But those eyes…

The aura…

He could look upon Agni without receiving a head-splitting migraine, yet his eyes still ached a bit. The pendant still burned slightly. Agni was trying his best to appear mortal-like, yet every instinct in Micah understood the threat of the individual standing before him. A malicious, seductive, and entirely powerful entity stood before him. And it excited him to no end.

The back of Micah’s knees hit the table with an audible _thud._

He flushed.

Agni, who’d steadily moved—glided—closer, stopped and cocked his head in smug contemplation. His attention landed on the table behind Micah before refocusing on his face. “I’m afraid there is nothing else for you to hide behind, child.”

He then pressed forward, crowding Micah and breathing the same air. A teasing of a near kiss before his mouth moved away. His fingers reached out and resumed their earlier position against Micah’s cheek, his thumb greedily claiming the skin underneath his eye. Agni was taller than Josiah, which left him more than a head taller than Micah. His shoulders were broad, his waist narrow, and his overall stature impressive without being overtly muscular. Lithe. Powerful. Despite the ideal physique, Micah’s attention focused intently on the man’s hair.

He reached out to touch the bicep-length locks, captivated, enthralled with the very loose, almost nonexistent waves.

Unda men and women had varying shades of blond and fair hair.

He couldn’t exactly label Agni’s hair as fair, but it was light. Bright. Beautiful. _Warm_. The brightest part of a flame. Between his fingers, it was soft, silky. If he tilted the hair strands one way, they resembled golden blond. If he tilted them the other way, he could see the orange and red strands reflecting off the varying sources of light throughout the room.

A light smile played his features as he bunched the hair with his fingers, tugging, experimenting. His other hand ventured out and touched the man’s robes, curious at the silky fabric. It appeared like a robe yet it was tied around the waist with a sash. It was open to the chest, revealing the black undershirt that extended high on his throat. The robe was a beautiful, unique, deep red. A hue modern-day tailors probably could not replicate.

During his assessment of Agni, he hadn’t realized the god’s hand left his cheek to discover his own body. The palms combing him were both firm and confident in their exploration of Micah’s slim and narrow waist.

It struck him that they were both exploring each other.

Unlike every other relationship Micah experienced with others, he and Agni were entirely unfamiliar with each other physically, but more than familiar with one another on an intimate level. It didn’t feel strange despite the unfamiliar body saddled so confidently before him. He knew this man. Just as he knew Agni knew him.

Agni matched Micah’s smile with one of his own, his hands sliding down Micah’s arms and shackling around his wrists. When the god began to loosen his gloves did Micah snap back to attention.

“No.”

“Ezra,” Agni crooned, not at all perturbed at the instinctive reaction. He grabbed Micah’s hands once again, bringing one of the palms up to his face before nuzzling. “You are beautiful. Scars from fire especially.”

Micah remained stiff, uncomfortable, as Agni unfastened one of his gloves. He recoiled when the scarred flesh around his palms were revealed, only, Agni kept a tight hold on his hand. The man’s lips pressed reverently against his scars, his eyes keeping steady eye contact with Micah all the while. A pleased, arrogant smirk lifted Agni’s mouth as he then reached for the other glove.

In an attempt to even the playing field, Micah reached with his free hand and untied the stash around Agni’s robe.

The robe fell open, revealing the black, form-fitting undershirt and trousers. He then tugged his hand free from Agni and landed on his knees before the entity. He grabbed Agni’s calves and ran a firm, massaging hand up both legs and toward his thighs. A deep, throaty sigh escaped from Agni as Micah’s fingers played around the waistband of his trousers.

Without any hesitation, Micah pulled down the form-fitting trousers, revealing the half-hard cock that sprang free from its restraints. It was an impressive size. Micah faltered for just a moment, grimacing as he imagined their coupling. He had several male partners in the past, but never once had he taken the role as the receiving partner before. He was no fool. Agni wouldn’t bottom.  

As he looked up at the man, he noticed Agni’s tense-filled expression as he stared at the far wall, almost as if to compose himself. The entity’s hands were curled at his sides, restraining, and all but forcibly preventing himself from reaching out and manhandling Micah.

Slowly, as if to tease the man, Micah’s tongue flickered out and ran greedily along the length of the cock.

“ _Micah_ …” the man breathed worshipfully. Rather unexpectedly, the blood orange eyes focused on him. Hands suddenly submerged into Micah’s hair and tugged him closer to his groin before pushing him away. “As much as I would enjoy this thoroughly, I intend to use your limited strength on something else entirely.” 

“I’m just fine,” Micah informed stiffly.

Agni smiled before pulling at Micah’s hair, forcing him to stand. “But you are not entirely well,” the man responded quietly. “You are still recovering. Moreover, I do not intend to extend your bedrest because we were too ambitious with our exploration of the other.” He immediately dropped his hands and unfastened Micah’s jacket. “You are wearing far too much clothing.”

Micah pushed away Agni’s hands and began to undress himself, watching as Agni did the same.

Soon, they were both nude and standing before the other.

Micah smirked victoriously, drinking in the model specimen of Agni and only growing more aroused.

 _Yes_.

“God,” he breathed. “You’re perfect.”

Agni advanced quickly, taking captive of Micah’s face and closing the distance. They kissed heatedly before Agni pulled back, teasing him. Gradually, the god began backing Micah up toward his sleeping chambers, his orange eyes hooded all the while. “As are you, Ezra. Far more than I could ever hope possible.”

He slammed the door closed behind them as they finally entered the sleeping chambers.

His hands brushed against the scars of Micah’s hands before curling around the back of his thighs. Rather abruptly, he picked Micah up, forcing the younger man’s legs around his waist. Immediately, Micah could feel the hardness of Agni press against his backside. He tipped back his head and released an inane laugh, wanting it so bad. Needing it.

Agni’s fingers lingered across Micah’s throat, not at all impatient with their inevitable coupling and simply just enjoying touching Micah.

Micah buried his face in Agni’s neck, inhaling the smoky, heated scent. “Agni.”

Nails scrapped his protruding spine, undoubtedly leaving marks in their wake. “Ezra.”

Agni held Micah for quite some time, his hands and fingers kneading and grazing Micah’s scalp and back, his lips teasing and sucking at his throat. Micah enjoyed the treatment, closing his eyes against the nails as they scratched leisurely at his skin. Chills and goose bumps followed in their wake, intensifying the painful pleasure.

He rolled his cheek against Agni’s, revealing in the warmth and the familiar heat. His hands found Agni’s hair as he rocked against the fire god, grinding himself against Agni’s abdomen and feeling Agni’s own cock respond favorably.

“So impatient,” Agni crooned huskily, quickly depositing Micah on the mattress.

“You’re intentionally going slowly because you think I’m weak.”

As much as he enjoyed their current tempo, the soft touches, the exploration of each other, he knew their chemistry was far more passionate—far angrier. He felt impatient.

Needy.

“Of course not,” Agni murmured in denial. “I’m enjoying this. I’m enjoying the fact that I finally have you where I want you. Will you let me fully savor it?” The god of fire hovered above him, his sly, unobtrusive smirk stubbornly in place as he looked down at him.

Micah released a frustrated hiss and arched upward, his scarred hand palming Agni’s chest before slyly moving down the hard abdomen. As his hand ventured lower, his fingers wrapped around Agni’s cock. He felt the hardness and the obvious excitement as he stroked the man. His fingers turned wet with weeping precum and he smirked winningly up at the god.

Undoubtedly trying to remain unmoved, something precarious stirred in Agni’s eyes as he gazed down at him.

He resembled a coiled predator. Tense. Frustrated.

Suddenly, Micah realized that Agni wasn’t necessarily going slowly for his health, though he was sure it was a factor. No. Agni was trying to keep himself under control. He’d told Micah that gods could lose control in the middle of intercourse with a mortal. Just how difficult was it for Agni to focus on shielding himself? Judging from the pinched expression and the tightening hands, it appeared as if Agni were having difficulties already.

Was it so wrong of Micah to want to see Agni lose control?

“Do you want me on my hands and knees?” Micah inquired innocently.

Something shifted in Agni’s expression, something akin to insult. “No.”

The god reached toward Micah’s chest, his fingers momentarily distracted with the scarred flesh left behind from the golden rune. Gradually, intentionally, he ran his hand down Micah’s abdomen before finding and curling his hand around his cock. Micah shifted, releasing a satisfied sigh as Agni stroked him once, twice, thrice before going down and engulfing him in his mouth.

Arching and cursing, Micah curled his fingers into the sheets, closing his eyes against the unimaginable pleasure.

Agni’s mouth suctioned him undeniably well. Micah released an array of noises as he thrashed underneath the ministrations, feeling Agni’s finger slyly find his arse and then his entrance. One finger. Two. The deity prepared him enthusiastically. Scissored and stretched. Micah breathed and gasped quickly, arching into the entity’s mouth with an unbridled need for completion.

He was going to—

The skillful tongue. The strong suction. The utter and undeniable dominance as Agni watched him tauntingly.

He was going to—

_God._

He couldn’t. Micah clenched his eyes shut, refusing to give in to his pleasure.

Agni withdrew his mouth, a string of saliva still connecting them as he chuckled sadistically. “So stubborn.” He removed his hands from their intimate invasion, leaving Micah empty and tremoring without the fingers stretching him. “No matter. You want a poetic release. A romanticized and synchronized climax with your partner. I can give you that.”

“I hate you,” Micah whispered spitefully at the ceiling.

A hand braced itself on his chest, pushing him uncomfortably into the mattress as Agni all but mounted him. He invaded Micah’s vision, a soft smile playing his chiseled features as he watched Micah’s expression. “I will be gentle,” he reassured, his fingers once against brushing Micah’s pulse, as if he were some damn Healer in charge of monitoring his heart rate. “Slow. Steady. Very clean.”

Micah hummed deep in his throat, hardly believing. His pulse was already racing.

Already dancing up his throat and all but tearing his chest in two.

This was… this was…

Agni reached down once more, his fingers entering Micah with ease. He whispered an incantation, something foreign that immediately lubricated Micah’s entrance.  “I find myself very impatient,” Agni murmured. “I had planned to spend more time with you, but you make it difficult to resist.” After manipulating Micah’s hips and legs, he pressed his cock against Micah’s entrance, the pressure mind numbing.

Micah closed his eyes as the god forced himself inside fully, finding himself unable to breathe. 

He felt so full.

His hands fluttered, pressing against his stomach as if he could feel Agni’s cock through his abdomen. A soft, pleased hiss sounded from the god above him as he watched Micah’s curious, albeit naïve explorations. His hand joined Micah’s over his stomach, applying a significant amount of pressure to the body below as he withdrew his cock and forcibly reinserted it to the hilt.

Micah moaned loudly.

He didn’t mind being held down hard enough to leave bruises. Entirely dominated. He didn’t mind Agni’s slow, decisive thrusts that claimed him meticulously. Each time the man withdrew, he plunged violently back inside, seemingly filling him up more with each thrust.

Soon, the pleasure overtook the pain.

With their hands conjoined over his abdomen, Micah wrapped his legs eagerly around Agni’s waist, impatiently urging the man deeper.

Agni murmured something in his throat as he obeyed.

The thrusts were vicious. Slow, yet thorough. The intention was not lost on Micah, no matter how much the pleasure overtook him.

He was completely and utterly _owned._

He mewled something undescriptive as Agni’s harsh thrust left him breathless and wanting more. Invisible fire danced up and down his limbs, setting his skin aflame and making him sweat profusely. He stared up at the man who watched him with single-minded intensity. Agni’s lips were pursed, tense, his eyes a whirlwind of stifled aggression and angry pleasure. Clearly, the god was having difficulties suppressing his aura.

It was clear, that if provoked, Agni would not hold back.

Micah knew he shouldn’t do it, but he did it anyway.

With his free hand, he touched Agni’s shoulder, his fingertips a mere tickle as his Element danced across the fire god’s skin. As the cold unraveled in competition with the fire, visible goose bumps abruptly appeared on Agni’s arms and the man stilled suddenly in his movements.

Orange eyes brightened unnaturally as they looked down at Micah.

The sensation was not lost on Micah either. Without the thrusts hitting his prostrate and causing a distraction, the static-like friction between their two Elements overwhelmed him to the point of excruciating pleasure. More so, it seemed, for Agni. Something dark and frighteningly predatory slanted across the man’s expression as he seemingly lost control.

His hands abruptly locked around Micah’s throat as the thrusts continued. Only this time, they were not deep and slow.

They were frenzied.

Wild.

Micah’s eyes rolled into the back of his skull, pleased with himself as the pleasure intensified. No. This was far greater than pleasure. Nothing could possibly describe the sensation paralyzing his mind and body. He suddenly realized why Agni always claimed Micah was not ready. Sharing such intimacy with a god… it was incomprehensible.

A portion of Agni’s aura revealed itself, causing the pendant around his neck to burn. A heavy throb also erupted behind his eyes, yet, he was far too gone in his pleasure to acknowledge or care. The only thing grounding his mind to his body were the hands around his throat.

Agni applied enough pressure to cut off his air supply.

Trust Agni to have an asphyxia fetish. However, considering how hard Micah was, and how much he enjoyed it, he supposed he shared that particular fetish.

“You say you hate me,” Agni’s voice cut through Micah’s unfocused, hazy mind. “Yet, there is such an indistinct, fine line between abhorrence and passion, don’t you feel it?”

_Yes…_

“Your defiance is beautiful. It excites me to think of all the things you’d like to do to me, just as I to you.” Agni leaned forward, their lips touching as if he wanted to consume all of Micah’s available oxygen. He breathed in deeply, as if doing just that. “Like constrict your air. Release you just before we reach a climax.”

Micah thrashed as the pleasure reached a limit his mortality could not comprehend. He came twice in quick succession, his body wired and knotted. It felt so _good,_ yet it was not for a mortal to know or understand.

“Greedily inhale your desperate breath. Take it. Because it’s mine to take.”

Agni stilled before releasing his seed deep inside Micah and releasing his throat.

Micah inhaled greedily, sharing it with Agni.

Only, something did not feel right as he inhaled deeply. The oxygen he inhaled was warm and heavy. It satisfied his depraved lungs, yet it felt foreign. His body felt warm. Almost burning. His stomach on fire. Strength… undeniable strength and power surged through his limbs. The hollow emptiness in his stomach filled with contentment and fulfillment. He was no longer famished.

Confusion filtered across his mind, a brief, persistent warning he could not possibly comprehend in his current state. It was gone as the passion gradually bled from his system, draining him and leaving him wholly satisfied.

A hand stroked his forehead. Gentle, apologetic.

Unable to keep his eyes open, Micah made a noise of protest as arms positioned him under the covers and _tucked him in_ like a child.

Fingers proceeded to run through his sweat-soaked hair, parting it fondly.

“Go to sleep, Micah.”

He did not protest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are familiar with my writing- you know just because they have sex doesn’t mean it will be a happy and sex-filled relationship from this point forward. In fact, Agni and Ezra have a long road ahead of them before they can reach that point. This sex scene was about Micah needing Agni in any capacity he could have. He’s feeling vulnerable at the moment and he will gladly take Agni’s physical comfort. As for Agni- not going to deny he didn’t have his own intentions. I would definitely savor this scene as it may be awhile before the next one ;)
> 
> Also as a side note: This chapter drained me. Completely. It took me a long while after being so uncertain about it that I just needed to delete Agni’s POV. I know I promised several readers his POV, unfortunately, it was a bit too revealing and it just didn’t… fit well. There is still a lot we need to learn about Agni through Ezra’s POV before we focus on Agni’s inner thoughts. 
> 
> Perhaps I’ll post it as an ‘extra feature’ after Part 3, but for now, it will remain tucked away. 
> 
> Happy New Years, everyone =)


	31. Chapter Thirty One

**31\. Chapter Thirty-One**

 

The cremation grounds were desolate, empty at the late hour. Only, if one looked hard enough, they would find a group of dark-cloaked individuals surrounding a casket. Their figures all but blended into the dark environment, becoming one with their surroundings. A large fire pit, currently in use, spurted a diminished, smoky fire. An attendant near the pit fanned the embers, intending to create more smolder.

As a result of their careful ministrations, smoke blossomed and bloomed, sliding over the tall grass with seductive slowness and cloaking everything in a thick, foggy haze.

A woman with a high, arching neck observed the others as they chanted beneath their breath. Her orange gaze, the eyes of very high Igni nobility, then landed on the figure in the coffin. “Deliver this to Calder?”

“I am more than certain he—along with Prince Ezra—will be ecstatic over receiving it,” the man replied.

She considered the prone figure inside the casket before turning to her male companion. The man was of Unda descent. Slicked back blond hair just reached the top of his shoulders with several strands falling forward in his dark gaze. Her lips twitched at his obvious air of extreme elation of finally being in better-suited skin. “And you’re sure this will work? The summoning?”

“Silence all day and all night would have been _ideal_ ,” he replied caustically.

Hardly bothered at his scorn, she hummed deep in her throat, looking once more at the corpse. Such a young, tragic little thing. So beautiful. So young. Oddly enough, despite the rarity of experiencing such emotion, Shula found herself a bit forlorn over the girl’s death. The lines around her eyes deepened with displeasure and jadedness.

No matter. It was only means to fuel her distaste for the fire god. For the nation as a whole.

Clenching her jaw, she entered the semicircle of her companions and began to join them in the mantra. She brought forth her turmoil of angry and black emotion, calling for the goddess known to favor widows.

In the smoke, several slabs of fresh meat lay as well as a bowl of departed blood.

An offering to the goddess.

An enticement.

As the smoke grew thicker, and the surroundings turned nearly impenetrable with smog, the silhouette finally appeared in the distance. Shula paused for just a moment, as did the others as they made out the slow-moving carriage. Hurriedly, Shula bowed her head and continued chanting, forcing the others to follow her commanding lead.

From the corner of her eye, she watched.

A chilling sense of intrigue and unease slid down her neck as the silhouette approached. There were no horses pulling the carriage. Rather, the open carriage moved on its own, the rickety, uneven wheels emitting hair-rising noises across the cremation grounds. In the trees, crows suddenly appeared in great numbers, squawking, screaming, and announcing the arrival of their master. Known to associate with death herself, the goddess sat perched upon the carriage, only a faint silhouette at the moment, but still uncanny from the distance.

A distant sound of war-like drums and bells resonated upon her arrival, nearly indiscernible past the talkative crows.

As the carriage came closer, Shula finally made out the goddess.

She was an old woman with dark skin and crow-like features. Her beak-like nose was long and crooked, her fearsome eyes beady, yet possessing unimaginable intelligence and strength. Her hair was grey and frizzy, currently in disarray around her sunken and gnarly features. Sagging jowls extenuated her heavy frown and dry lips.

She wore rags. Tatty. Torn. Dirty. Her tunic was cut low, revealing drooping, heavy breasts. Around her neck, she wore a necklace made of bones. Yet oddly enough, she also wore jewelry. Gold and shining, the expensive rings, bracelets, and headpiece were all polished, a sharp contrast to both her appearance and her clothing.

Steadily, the others began to silence, the mantra falling from their lips one more time before her carriage made a complete stop.

Shula bowed low, the others following suit. If her male companion hadn’t warned her about the migraine beforehand, Shula would have been concerned with the sharp, piercing thud behind her eyes.

“Rise.” The voice was hard like gravel and hoarse with seemingly old age.

Shula Idris straightened.

“You are a widow?” The beady eyes fell on Shula. “Without husband?”

“Yes.” She bowed her head before looking back up, her eyes hard, focused with animosity. “Both my husband and son were killed by the fire god, Agni. Several of our people… killed… by Agni. We seek your help to fight our foe.”

Around them, the crows suddenly silenced. At the mere mention of thwarting Agni, the goddess crooned and grimaced unhappily. She picked up her bone necklace with long, talon-like fingernails and placed a piece in her mouth. The sound of bones crunching against bone echoed around the cremation grounds, the only disruption to break the silence for a long while.

Shula resisted the urge to look at her male companion. He’d reassured her that the goddess would assist any devotee, no matter her allegiances in the god-realm. However, it seemed as if she were unhappily gnawing on her enemies’ bones, appearing ready to refuse assistance.

“No one has summoned me for over a hundred years,” the goddess croaked. Her beady, sunken eyes lowered to the smoky fire, the meat, and the blood. A fond smile crossed her lips, revealing a few missing teeth. “Yet, you did everything particularly well. Perfect.”

Shula lifted her chin. “Yama instructed me.”

The goddess dropped the necklace and stared at Shula with unveiled shock. Shula turned and looked deliberately at her male companion, drawing attention to the blond-haired man behind the scenes. The man in question stepped forward, a bored expression on his face as he clasped his hands behind his back. Suddenly, a wide grin stretched his face as he admired the goddess.

“Hello, Dhumavati.”

Dhumavati squinted and frowned at Yama, appearing just as unhappy as she was moments ago. Bemusement slotted her expression as she looked back at Shula then back again at Yama.

Unexpectedly, she tipped back her head and emitted crowing, delighted laughter.

Crows all leapt from their branches and soared eagerly into the night sky.

 

*** * * ***

 

That lovely, desperate breath that Agni controlled until the very end stayed with Micah long after he woke from his rest.

It wasn’t until he bathed and dressed for the evening that he realized why that might be.

Buttoning the high-collar robes to hide the bruising around his throat, Micah stopped short at his reflection. He didn’t know how long he stood in front of the mirror or how long it took him to comprehend what he was witnessing.

In the dim, evening light, a faint, red-gold hue shimmered underneath his skin. Micah looked toward the bed where Agni had long since departed then back to his reflection. A disbelieving scoff escaped his lips as he examined the faint hue. How could he even be upset? It was so like Agni to have underlying motives. Of course it wasn’t just sex to him. He had other intentions. Plans beneath plans.

Micah shook his head, unable to conjure enough energy for anger.

If anything, he was exasperatedly amused.

Perhaps he was jumping to conclusions over something that was easily explainable by science. Agni was a _god._ As the man explained in the past, a god could impregnate a mortal woman and create a child with her that would be impossible to carry to full term, simply because the demigod would destroy its mother as it developed its powers. Therefore, it wasn’t a surprise that Agni’s seed inadvertently affected him in _some_ way. He still felt normal— _mortal._ He wasn’t suddenly a _god_. He was silly to consider it.

Granted, he did feel far better than he had in days; well-rested, warm, and reenergized. He’d wait for Agni’s semen to get out of his system before he confronted the god about it.

Yet…

That breath.

That breath they’d shared. There was something there.

His confidence wavered and a part of him angrily hated himself for not wanting to think further about it.

Grimacing, he focused on fastening his collar buttons. His fingers ghosted over the bruises across his throat and he felt his stomach tighten in gratifying knots.

He was pathetic.

But it had been especially enjoyable, hadn’t it?

A self-satisfied smirk curled the edges of his mouth. Micah plucked at his robes, pondering. There really was no way to describe what he did with Agni. Nothing in his lifetime could possibly compare to that experience. The best part of their exchange?

Witnessing Agni lose control.

Inhaling deeply, Micah savored the memory fondly, knowing he would always treasure it. There was something especially enchanting over the prospect of the god, who prided himself on his tight control, losing himself when Micah touched him with his Element. The man practically turned brutal.

Opening his eyes, he finished fastening his robes.  

He didn’t regret anything.

Nor did it change anything between him and Agni. However, if he was honest with himself, he missed the opportunity to bruise Agni as much as the man had marked him. Moreover, after having experienced intimacy with the god, it continued to dwell in the back of his mind like a persistent _itch._ Fortunately, Micah did not anticipate repeating the act any time soon. He knew the dangers of dabbling with addictive practices. He’d be damned if he ever craved Agni’s touch to the point of mindless desperation.

Eyeing the clock and noting the time, Micah adjusted his robes once more, making certain the bruises remained firmly tucked away. Grabbing his pair of gloves, he secured them around his wrists and swept into the common area of his suite.

He would be a bit late.

He didn’t imagine they would hold it against him.

As soon as he opened the door to his quarters, a bottle of unopened whiskey thrust itself in his face, preventing his exit.

“I brought you this.”

Micah reached for the bottle, spying Haken standing uneasily before him. The Igni Healer glanced inside Micah’s quarters, as if searching for someone, before returning his attention on the bottle of liquor with an awkward shuffle.

Gazing down at the bottle, Micah mulled over the significance. There was _something_ nagging at the back of his mind.

“Your team is in Kai Edlen’s rooms, waiting for you,” Haken informed as if Micah hadn’t already known. He cast a cautionary look around the royal guards who loitered in the corridor. “I tried to come earlier, but, well… you were resting.” Micah’s eyes sharpened.  “As you should be,” Haken continued hurriedly. “Resting. After heart failure, it’s best to take things slow as you readjust back into your regular routine.”

Either Haken had somehow known Micah and Agni — _Josiah—_ were preoccupied with each other earlier in the day or he was truly feeling uncomfortable standing there, presenting Micah with a gift of very high-end whiskey. He didn’t particularly care if Haken _did_ know about Josiah spending time in his quarters. He was, however, interested in the whiskey and what it entailed.

“And as my personal Healer,” Micah started with a low-tenor drawl. “Would you also suggest staying away from liquor?”

Haken offered a dim smile. “It would be best for your recovery if you stayed away from liquor, yes. But I figured it was a much-needed celebration tonight.”

Just as Micah assumed.

He rotated the bottle around in his hand, allotting a silence to stretch between them. He could feel Haken’s haywire emotions. They were far too pungent to overlook. Anger, most certainly, followed by spite and desperation. “You salvaged your memories,” he surmised quietly. “Agni hadn’t taken them away, it seems.” He shut the door to his quarters and motioned Haken to follow him.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

Such a very sad attempt to deceive.

“Viktor proclaimed we’d get together with Kai under the stipulation I bring good whiskey. Only, when he said that, you’d been possessed at the time.” Micah cast a sidelong glance at the Healer. “I don’t know why you think you need to hide your memory recollection from me.”

“Did you ask him to spare my memories?” Haken demanded with a high-pitched whisper. He cleared his throat and continued with far more control. “I mean… He’s erased some. I don’t remember much. I remember him, possessing me, of course, and asking permission. But after that, things are hazy. I’m not entirely sure what was real and what was not. I _do_ remember the underground tunnels—something I’d rather not remember. The fear was noxious.”

“I think you should be more concerned with _why_ he kept you aware of his presence in the mortal realm.”

Indeed.

Agni was not sloppy. He was deliberate. It would seem as if the fire god was not quite finished with Haken. While the fire god most likely erased critical tidbits, he did not erase them all. By not removing Haken’s memories, Agni was already doing a fine job of toying with the boy to the point of paranoia. He would find it amusing, no doubt.

Micah didn’t know what to think regarding Agni’s intentions with Haken. The man was possessive enough. Haken’s status as Micah’s Chosen was enough reason for the god to meddle and toy with the Healer for the sole purpose of entertainment. It would not surprise Micah if Agni kept him aware just as a warning for Haken to keep away.

Then again, Haken was _his._ If there was anyone who had the right to move the boy across the board, it was Micah. He just hadn’t decided what to do with him yet. Such inactivity would be disastrous against Agni’s schemes. Yet, at the same time, Micah did not want to be hasty in determining the best way to deal with Haken.

“That’s good to know,” Haken replied faintly as they walked down the corridor toward Kai’s rooms. “It will help me sleep at night, knowing he’s out there with some sort of vendetta against me.”

“Just keep that in mind in case he tries to convince you to do anything,” Micah responded, pleased to see a royal guard stationed outside Kai’s room. “No matter how sweet his poison, he isn’t someone to be trusted.”  

“You seem to handle him just fine.”

“It’s complicated,” Micah answered warily.

Micah recalled the day Calder held him captive inside his rooms. The same day Dushyanta made his final move. Haken had arrived in his quarters and surprised him by revealing a self-preserving and cunning side. Where was that Haken now? The boy seemed agitated. Shifty. Almost desperate.

_Agni’s doing._

Hit with the sudden implications of what the god could accomplish in less than a few days of possession, Micah mulled over the change in Haken’s behavior. In Region 20, in the underground establishment, the boy said he’d experienced power. That he hadn’t felt anything quite like Agni’s possession. Since then, he’d been distracted, nearly hysterical that Agni would take away those memories of invincibility.

Agni had a way of warping his hosts, didn’t he?

Micah stopped before Kai’s room, which was situated only a few doors down from his own suite. He tapped his fingers impatiently against the glass bottle, examining Haken with unveiled pity. It was a shame. After experiencing an otherworldly power, some individuals became twisted. So entirely power-hungry with wanting to experience that power again.

He wondered how long it would take Haken to come back down from his affixation.

 “Would you like to come inside?”

Haken straightened at the invitation. “I shouldn’t.” He cleared his throat again when Micah rose his eyebrows, unimpressed. “I appreciate the offer, but I think I’m going to pass, Your Highness. Maybe another time. Enjoy the whiskey.”

The Igni Healer then proceeded to escape down the corridor.

“Healer Anwar.” Micah’s voice was sharp enough to stop the Healer in his tracks. Haken turned back around, expectant, and a bit startled at the authority in Micah’s tone. “Why don’t you come inside for a drink?” Micah nodded toward the royal guard. Said guard opened the door with a bow. “It’s the least we can offer after your generous gift.”

Behind his thin spectacles, Haken peered inside the room before nodding reluctantly.  

Micah resisted the sinister smile.

With Haken present, it would also give him an excuse not to divulge too much detail with his team. As much as he knew they should eventually hear the truth, a group setting was hardly the place to explain it to them. Individually was ideal… depending on the particular person. Each cadet would need a different approach.

“There he is!” Viktor bemoaned loudly. “You’re late—” he cut himself off after spying the large bottle of whiskey in Micah’s hands. “You’re just on time, actually! Good to see you.”

The team all assembled in the sitting area in front of a lit fire. It was good to see Edlen out of bed, even if he did look like death. Upon seeing the noble slouched lethargically in his chair, Micah felt his own energy suddenly deplete. Whatever vigor and stamina he felt with Agni abruptly disappeared in the cold, despairing quarters. The memories of Yama’s realm came back to him with haunting clarity.  

Instantly, he felt guilty for his time spent with Agni early this afternoon.

 _Fraternizing with the enemy,_ a faint voice hissed accusingly in his head _._

Micah faltered in midstride as a chill slid down his spine.

No, no.

_No!_

Something was not right.

The bottle nearly slipped from his fingers, yet someone stood in front of him and retrieved the bottle from his slack hands. Viktor. The boy flashed a wide, cheek-straining grin as he gazed down at the whiskey label, wholly ignorant to Micah’s plight. With his free hand, he offered Micah a distracted, one-armed embrace. “Good to see you on your feet, Captain.”

Talia was next, embracing him.

Micah recovered enough to hug her back, realizing he needed to appreciate the uncharacteristic gesture from her no matter how disorientated he felt. Now was not the time to lose himself in his thoughts. However, it was a difficult task to manage.

Kai was Kai.

There was no question about it and he was explicitly certain of that fact. No matter what Edlen’s presence felt like, the boy was _not_ Yama. Perhaps it was time to involve Agni.

Only, he hesitated.

He was reminded that it was not in his best interests to rely on Agni for answers. At least not yet. If the situation continued, Micah would reconsider involving the fire god. Perhaps time would work out the atmosphere around Kai. Maybe this darkness, this venomous cold that encompassed Kai, were mere after affects from being in a Syphon’s immediate proximity for so long.

Micah didn’t know what side he identified with just yet to involve Agni. On one hand, he sympathized with Yama. He saw gods as the enemy. He could see why Yama would stand a better chance against them all.

Yet…

It was _Agni._ And this was Kai.

“It’s good to see you’re okay,” Talia whispered into his ear before pulling away. She offered a strained smile, stiffly detangling herself from his arms.

Micah forced the unease away and grinned. “I appreciate your concern.” He raised his gaze to the others—Aiden and Cain—who’d both nodded between bites of food. A large, ridiculous amount of food lay out in front of everyone on silver platters and trays. The smell churned his stomach with faint tremors of nausea. “All of you.”

Kai caught his eyes, looking pointedly between him and Haken.

“Haken has provided the whiskey,” Micah declared, moving further into the sitting area with Haken persistently at his heels. “I thought it only appropriate we invite him for a few drinks.”   

“More the merrier.” Viktor sat down and invited Haken next to him.

“Councilman Sachiel stopped by,” Kai said with an air of haughtiness. He reached forward and touched a box of half-eaten chocolates before sliding them over. “Wanted me to give you these. He expressed his disappointment that you were not up to see guests earlier today despite Lord Josiah’s royal guards loitering in the corridors for quite some time.”

All eyes turned in his direction and Micah barely batted an eye. “I’m sorry I missed him.”

Someone snickered. “Chocolates. The way into a man’s dainty trousers.”

“Viktor!” Talia reprimanded sharply.

Micah turned, watching as the blond-haired cadet emptied his glass of water into a neighboring plant. The young man then proceeded to fill his empty cup with a generous amount of whiskey. The boy shrugged.

“Water won’t go to waste. It’s a plant, Talia.”

Kai continued watching Micah smugly. Upon his lap, he had his own box of white chocolates. Clearly, he did not intend to share his portion as he’d graciously done with Micah’s box. “Missed a few visitors this afternoon, it sounds like. Councilwoman Abital too.”

“Are you insinuating something, Edlen?” Micah inquired irritably.

“That you and Lord Josiah were so wrapped up in each other’s moody and dark embrace that you didn’t want visitors. Especially from Sachiel, who would have invited himself to be the third. He had chocolates, after all,” Viktor concluded with a shrug. He ignored the looks of frustration from the others on the team as he reached for a dark chocolate truffle. Popping one in his mouth, he chewed obnoxiously loud, rolling it around in his mouth. “It’s not like this is news, Micah. Everyone knows it. Kai just likes to poke at you.”

It wasn’t news, the boy claims.

Micah supposed that was partially true. When he was under constant surveillance, not only from his father, but also from the guards, his team, the noblemen, and the public, things did not go under the radar. Like how long Josiah stayed in his chambers. “Nothing like that happened. No embraces. No moods,” he rebuffed firmly. He would always rebuff it. It was vital he remain political. “He’s my uncle.”

He would completely ignore the comment on Sachiel as well.

“Well—”

“Viktor,” Micah cut off sharply. “Enough. It’s not true.”

Viktor waved a hand in surrender, seemingly distracting himself with another one of Micah’s chocolate truffles. “Fine.”

Edlen settled back and watched the exchange with a curled lip. “Viktor’s lewd and distasteful comments _aside,_ Sachiel informs me that King Calder has agreed to send you back to Region 20 as soon as you are recovered.”

Micah withheld a sigh.

He’d asked Calder just that afternoon. Trust Sachiel to find out inside information before Calder even told Micah.

“Why would you go back there, Micah?” Talia sounded perturbed.

“Someone needs to fix what we broke,” he explained. He slid an empty cup towards Viktor, who currently controlled the bottle of whiskey far too possessively. The others also had their empty glasses nearby, waiting on Viktor. “I volunteered my services to oversee the reconstruction. It is also on my itinerary to find a proposal to improve their current situation. To try to improve their way of living.”

He felt Kai’s gaze on him.

It was good to have him back, yet at the same time, unfamiliar. Kai had once proclaimed himself Micah’s advisor of sorts. More suitably, _Micah_ had proclaimed Kai as his advisor. He trusted the other man to be his voice of reason when it came to politics. Edlen was, after all, born and raised to be a politician in this environment.

He supposed having him back meant necessary collaboration.

Looking up at the other man, Micah watched as Kai inclined his head, seemingly agreeing with his quest. He imagined Sachiel filled Kai in on more than just his missed opportunity with Micah this afternoon. They most likely spoke of him, of his outspoken and brash attitude during the council meeting and how best to fix his reputation.

The two were remarkably similar.

Micah wondered if having them together was such a good thing.

“I think your plan to go back to Region 20 is appropriate,” Haken spoke up, earning quick looks from all the others. As if trying to phase them out, he focused strictly on Micah. He seemed to harness far more control and confidence in this environment than when they were talking of Agni. “I mean, that’s your base, isn’t it? Outer region sympathizer? I’d like to accompany you, if at all possible.”

“ _Prince_ Ezra cannot be _just_ the outer region sympathizer,” Kai said promptly.

Haken blinked rapidly, taken off guard.

“He is the sympathizer for _all_ citizens.” Kai tapped his fingers against his armrest, the only sign of his irritably over Haken showing him up. “And you already knew I’d be accompanying you, Egan. Someone has to keep you in line.”

Micah watched him with barely hidden amusement.

Edlen’s spoiled persona was always quick to reveal itself when he grew petulant.

“Kai,” Cain protested quietly. “You just got back.”

Understandably, there was a heavy somberness in the air over the prospect of Kai returning to the very same place that he’d sustained so many emotional and physical scars. Viktor sighed loudly and preoccupied himself with pouring a substantial amount of whiskey into separate cups. He slid the first one down to Micah, who accepted it gratefully.

Leaning back in his chair, he observed the others, finding the room shroud in despondency. They were all recalling the mission to Region 20. With stiff shoulders, futile glances, and an evident weight on their shoulders, the team pondered on what they felt about Micah and Kai returning to the outskirt regions.

It didn’t surprise Micah that Kai wanted to accompany him.

Haken too.

While Micah didn’t know if he’d take them up on their offer, Haken especially, he tucked away the proposal in the back of his mind. There were many details to hash out with his father.    

“You’re exactly right, Cain,” Kai replied easily. “I did just get back and I have missed too much. It will take some time to catch up with what transpired during my absence. I think Egan and I need time to reform.”

“Well then I’m going too,” Cain stated.

“Me too,” Talia quickly volunteered. She cupped her whiskey close to her chest and caught Micah’s eyes, mulishly holding his gaze. “You promised me that you’d relocate both Cain and I to the palace. To be near you.”

“Did he now?” Kai inquired, intrigued. “We can’t all go to Region 20, Talia. This isn’t an act of war but rather an attempt to make amends. To convey a diplomatic front. It would be best if you and the rest of the team returned to the academy until we arrive back at the capital. Then we can decide how to proceed from there with all of you.”

Micah took a slow sip of whiskey, enjoying the moment Talia lost all reservations.

“What gives you the right to make decisions, Edlen?” she demanded. “What gives you the right to speak for Micah?  Is it because you’re a man? You think you can order me around?”

Instead of rising to the bait, Kai simply shook his head as he refused the whiskey Viktor passed in his direction. “I’m not even going to touch on the gender comment, Bay.” He watched as Viktor passed the cup to Cain. “My background is what makes me suitable to help Micah make decisions. If he doesn’t like my suggestions, he’s free to disagree or disregard them. You’re more than welcome to make political decisions, Talia. In fact, we can switch places for a time. You attend court. You speak with the noblemen.”

“That is not what I am implying. You play the role of a pretty-boy noble just fine.” She turned to a silently amused Micah. “You’re the one who makes this decision, Micah. Not _him_.” A stubborn crease appeared between her brows. “The capital is no longer my place, neither is the academy. I want to join your side in Region 20.”

“I appreciate your fierce allegiance,” Micah started.

Her eyes clouded unpleasantly. “Don’t you dare give me a political response.”

He smiled, pleased. Clearly, Talia was coming into herself. She was no longer a reserved, angry individual who quietly followed the team. She knew what she wanted now and she would fight to obtain it… while still being angry. “I am not going to make any certainties tonight about my tour to Region 20,” he informed calmly. “Kai’s presence isn’t even going to be a certainty. There is still much to decide and that includes who will accompany me.” 

She didn’t appear especially satisfied at his answer, yet he observed as she took a deep, steadying breath to compose herself.  

“That being said, if and when I find myself choosing possible allies to accompany me, you will be the first on my list, Talia,” Micah murmured quietly. He caught her eyes over the rim of his glass and winked.

A very small smile upturned the corner of her mouth.

“Will you still speak with my parents?” Viktor persisted.

“I promised you I would. I will do so after Region 20,” Micah answered promptly, ignoring Kai when the other boy shifted. “Until then, you will most likely return back to the academy with Aiden and Cain.”

“That’s fortunate, as I had no desire to go back to Region 20,” Aiden muttered.

“There’s a surprise!” Viktor rebuked loudly enough to startle Haken, who was the unfortunate soul between the two. “Why don’t you refrain from stating the obvious, Aiden? We all know you would rather abandon Micah than offer him your support.” Though his words were unkind, his tone wasn’t as hostile as it usually was when he and Aiden argued.

“I’ve had enough of you two fighting,” Micah admonished disdainfully, immediately stilling Aiden as the boy made to defend himself. “Both of you fought together in that underground. You had to depend on each other to make it out of there alive, didn’t you? Didn’t that change anything? Though you may have different backgrounds and different views, you must have realized you can both set that aside and work together for a common cause. It is imperative we keep our allies close. Even if they frustrate us to the point of persistent and childish _quarreling._ ”

Viktor and Aiden looked at one another, both finally _silent._

“As a citizen of an outskirt region, Aiden has had a childhood many of you could not even fathom,” Micah started, feeling as if he also needed to reexamine his own treatment of the Igni boy these past several days.

“Besides you.”

Micah eyed Viktor sternly, the other cadet quickly bowing his head in apology for interrupting.

“He’s already faced several trials,” Micah continued. “He’s had to work his ass off, year after year, just to get a scholarship to an academy that many nobles take for granted. Nobles consider the academy a mere stepping-stone and a shiny recommendation for attending for a few terms. If they quit, or withdraw their attendance to join radical missions with the prince, they can recover just fine in this society. They have connections, money, and status to find a reputable position.

“I don’t fault Aiden for wanting to stick with his studies and take the opportunity to grow into his best self. To make a name for himself in a society that suppresses men and women like him. Just because he may have different goals and aspirations than the rest of us, different priorities, does not mean he lacks what matters the most. Loyalty.”   

Aiden’s mouth wavered and he hurriedly looked down to compose himself.

He nodded firmly to his glass of whiskey, a show of gratitude and acknowledgement.

Micah watched him gravely, drinking in the naked emotion and regretting his earlier perception of the boy. Wasn’t Aiden the very example of why Micah was fighting in this nobility culvert? _Outskirt sympathizer._ Unfortunately, he’d been comparing Aiden with the others on the team—who all happened to be high nobility—and seeing Aiden’s differences as something to scorn.

Yes, Aiden was exasperating at times. He was also proud and stubborn. He had his own individuality and he wasn’t afraid to voice it.

Micah did not want to suppress that individuality.

“As long as I’m talking,” Micah resumed, looking around at their somber expressions. “I might as well broach a subject I have addressed in the past. Yet, at the time, it was met with a bit of resistance.” Here, he looked at Kai, who watched him steadily in return. “But I think it needs to be said again. I want _all_ of you to really think about your decision to support me. I represent change and many people will not accept that. Worst case scenario, this may turn into a civil rebellion.”

“But you’re going to try your best to prevent that, right Micah?”

“War isn’t even an option I am considering at this point in time, Cain.”

It really wasn’t. No matter the subtle warning from Cordelia and Sachiel, Micah could not imagine things getting to the point of a war between himself, Calder, and Josiah.  He just couldn’t see it.

“Be that as it may, your support is still considered an act of allegiance and may incur political backlash. Fortunately, you also have the opportunity to prolong your decision by staying at the academy and remaining immune from all this.” He let his words sink in. “I don’t want you to support me because I was your captain.” He looked at Viktor. “I don’t want you to follow me because you feel as if you have nowhere else to go.” Talia. “If your parents decided to support me, that doesn’t mean you need to as well.” Cain lowered his gaze and nodded to himself.

Talia maintained persistent eye contact, her expression steady. A clear answer to what she thought of Micah’s cautionary remark.

Next to Viktor, Haken offered a small smile, gazing at Micah with fond and respectful appreciation.

Exhaling, Micah sat back against the couch. He’d already talked enough. His voice felt hoarse. “Take time to really consider this. Most importantly, do not fault your teammates for deciding a different path.”

“Now that Egan has successfully put a damper on this evening,” Kai started, breaking the silence with his pompous tone. “We came here to celebrate my return to the capital. Granted, things are changing, but that doesn’t mean we should let good whiskey go to waste.” He took Viktor’s whiskey and raised it to Haken. “Thank you, Healer, for supplying the booze and for your assistance during my recovery.”

Kai caught Micah’s eyes as he sipped. Boisterous as he was about the melancholy speech, his haunted gaze spoke volumes.

Kai agreed with him.

The team needed to hear the reality.

Many of them were adults, yes, yet they were children in the sense that they’d been coddled most their life. They needed to hear their decisions had consequences, consequences that would haunt them for the rest of their lives.

“Agreed!” Viktor hurriedly poured himself another glass now that Kai seemingly changed his mind about drinking.  

“Aren’t we going to discuss what happened at Region 20?” Aiden asked.

“No,” Kai shot him down sternly. He swirled the liquid around in his glass, his single eye focused intensely on Aiden. “You know what transpired in Region 20, Aiden. For the most part, at least. Your intuition isn’t wrong. But… let’s not talk about it tonight. Yes? I don’t know about all of you, but I’d rather just sit here, eating, drinking, and listening to Egan’s morbid warnings.”

Aiden, recognizing the insistence behind Kai’s words, nodded somberly. He moved his glass forward, toward Viktor, who’d promptly gave him a refill. Clearly, Kai wanted to keep the circumstances surrounding Region 20 private. Either it was out of selfish reasons or more sensibly, he did not feel strong enough to stir up haunted memories. Micah assumed it was a bit of both and did not mind following suit.

“Morbid? You mean moody and dark,” Viktor corrected Kai’s earlier comment, more than eager to turn the conversation. “Oddly enough, those are the same words to describe both Lord Josiah and Micah’s similar dispositions. What did you say about those dark and moody embraces earlier this afternoon, Micah? They… _didn’t_ happen? Are you sure? Cause you’re projecting a bit too much of Lord Josiah right now.”

Micah shook his head, hurriedly grabbing the last chocolate truffle underneath Viktor’s reaching hand.

He smirked victoriously.

“Speaking of embraces,” Micah started slyly. He dropped the truffle in his mouth, momentarily distracted by the richness and the euphoric deliciousness on his tongue. _Oh god…_ He’d have to personally thank Sachiel, wouldn’t he? “I was introduced to Brooke Glyndwr.”   

Abruptly, a chorus of overexaggerated shouts and exclamations sounded from _all_ the males present. Even Haken and Aiden were riled up over the name, sharing a smitten grin with each other.

Talia, on the other hand, rolled her eyes and tipped back the rest of her drink.

Micah stared uncomprehendingly at the reaction he’d caused upon speaking Brooke’s name. Perhaps he’d missed a few gossiping circles during his obsessive studies of both daemons and gods. Yes, Brooke was more than attractive. Very attractive and smart. Intelligently cunning. He just never realized how popular she was amongst the general male population. He supposed it made sense.

“She’s… _beautiful_ ,” Aiden murmured into his glass.

“Beautiful seems awfully tame,” Viktor murmured lewdly. “Was she already trying to hitch her wagon on to you, _Prince Ezra_?” Viktor exclaimed with a delirious laugh. “Hoping to be the next queen?”

“Actually, she was far more concerned over Kai. Her… previous betrothed.”

All smug eyes turned to Kai, who appeared entirely uninterested in the conversation. He looked at Talia and then admired his glass of nearly empty whiskey. “Brooke is all about climbing the ranks,” he responded. “Nereus is her current betrothed. No doubt she wants to get out of that as quickly as possible and try to find a more suitable match.” Here, he looked pointedly at Micah.

“With the eyepatch, you may rekindle her attraction,” Aiden reasoned smartly. “It’s has a precariously handsome vibe to it.”

Kai glowered.

“ _Pssst_. Micah!”

Micah turned, eyeing Viktor.

“Brooke is like a young Cordelia Abital,” Viktor whispered loudly, hardly even trying to muffle his words. He leaned closer, invading Micah’s space by intentionally sliding closer on the settee with his whiskey-smelling breath. “Twenty gold coins says her and Cain will end up together. You know what they say… sons tend to marry women similar to their mother.”

Cain’s cheeks reddened.

Micah recoiled at the very idea. “I hope that’s not the case.”

Kai made a noise of fierce agreement.

“Well, in your case, Micah, it would be nephews end up marrying those who are similar to their uncle. Or just their uncle,” Viktor quipped, snickering and earning a few chuckles form the others as well.

Haken’s eyes widened to comical levels upon the scandalous remark.

“The folktale that you are struggling and poorly remembering, Viktor, is that _women_ tend to marry men like their _fathers_ ,” Talia interrupted with exasperation. “Said folklore is a very untrue and stereotypical falsehood.”

Viktor sighed dramatically. “Don’t worry, Talia. You’re still our number one. Brooke an understandably close second.” He looked at Micah and winked. “Micah the third. Though one could argue Micah is in a category all on his own.”

“Get in line behind Sachiel and his chocolates, Viktor!” Kai declared.

“Lord Josiah is blocking the way.”

Wide, disbelieving eyes turned to Cain who had issued the uncharacteristic comment. Laughter suddenly erupted amongst the team, and Cain, who ears reddened and eyes intentionally avoiding Micah, leaned down to pour himself more whiskey. Haken appeared positively scandalized at the outspoken jabs before he too joined in with the others with loud, disbelieving laughter.

Micah shook his head, smirking into his drink.

Fine.

Let him be the subject of their jokes.

They needed this, didn’t they?

Haken looked entirely lost in his amusement over the outlandish remarks. Kai looked just as pleased and content. The rest the team finally appeared to be bonding once again. Yes. Micah found he could tolerate their jokes so long as they were having a good time.

Viktor effortlessly eased them into the next topic of conversation, recognizing Kai’s need to avoid the heavier subjects and doing a remarkable job. He recollected stories from the academy that Micah and Kai had missed during their absence. He even roped Cain into recounting memories from their childhood, memories that included both Edlen and Wayde. Most of those stories were entraining to Micah, simply because it sounded as if Edlen were a stuck up brat the moment he crawled out of his mother’s womb.

Viktor even managed to involve Haken in the conversation. Micah learned the Igni Healer lived at the capital since infancy, studying medicine under his grandfather without much interaction from the outside world.

As the whiskey flowed and the food gradually disappeared on the platters, Micah felt the warmth spread through his belly and up to his head. The food that appeared unappealing before suddenly fascinated him and he found himself gnawing on some of the offered spreads. Liquor had a marvelous affect against the cold and despair. Even Edlen appeared far more jubilant and healthy.

Powers of liquor, Micah supposed, raising his glass to admire the amber fluid.

“What about you, Captain?” Viktor pressed impatiently, eagerly looking toward Micah. “Any childhood stories you want to share with us? I imagine you would be an irresistible looking child who was always up to no good.”

_Yes. Pickpocketing and stealing when gold ran low._

“No,” Micah replied sternly.

The team deflated.

“Come on,” Viktor persisted. “Okay. Here is an easy one for you. How did you and Keegan become friends?”

Micah scoffed with amusement, feeling something hollow in his chest over the mention of Keegan. He always felt a wound reopen at the mention of Keegan. _God._ He missed the boy. He missed seeing what man Keegan could have grown and matured into.

“Alright.” He sloshed his glass, watching the amber liquid nearly dance over the edge. “Well, Keegan was a lot larger than I was. Physically. He had an impressive stature for an Igni male. He—ah—despite his docile disposition, often times thought he could intimidate others just by standing in front of them with a stern, quiet demeanor.”

Micah laughed bitterly at the memory.

“When I was around nineteen and new to Region 20… for the most part… I found myself in a situation.” He frowned. “I said a few smart comments to a group of kids one day at school for their ridiculously daft comments. They followed me afterward, intending to teach me a _lesson_. Keegan took it upon himself to lend a helping hand. He defended me in front of them, but they didn’t retreat like he thought they would.” Micah grinned. “And this kid—Keegan—had absolutely no combative bone in his body. He was privileged, in the only way possible for a Region 20 kid. Therefore, _I_ was the one to defend Keegan from them that day. After which, in his guilt, he followed me home from school every day, keeping a wide distance because he knew how much it bothered me.”

He shook his head, tasting a sour, bitter emotion on his tongue.

“Keegan was so _foolish_ ,” he whispered. “So wholesome and ignorantly genuine. The world never deserved someone like him.”  

Kai held up his glass. “And again, no one should let Egan speak during celebratory gatherings.” He guffawed. “You have always painted Keegan in a godly light. He knew what he was doing. He was a big boy. Just as you said, he was foolish.”

“Kai,” Talia objected.

“What?” Kai didn’t back down. “Flint bit off more than he could chew. He almost dragged Egan down with him.”

Micah nearly rolled his eyes with exasperation. He did not sense true animosity from Edlen, otherwise he would have defended Keegan’s honor.

“Who is Keegan?” Haken inquired. “An old teammate of yours?”

“Kai’s and Talia’s competition for the position of Micah’s right hand man,” Viktor quipped.

“Hardly,” Kai retorted sharply.

“We lost Keegan and Wayde last term,” Micah responded solemnly. “They were both good teammates who died too soon.”

Haken made some sort of expression of sympathy. Viktor quickly intervened, starting to chat about something or another. Micah, on the other hand, found his attention focused exclusively on the shape that had appeared in the far corner of Kai’s temporary quarters. It started as a shiver—a faint yet tangible chill. Smoke tendrils curled eccentrically until it finally took the shape of shadowy man.

Micah set down his glass, unable to tear his gaze away from the featureless man who stood opposite of him. The others couldn’t see him. However, the volume of the conversation subconsciously lowered, perhaps as a direct, intuitive result of the poignant aura of unease seeping across the room.

Very pale, grey eyes focused deliberately on Micah.

Colorless hair slicked back away from ashen and prominently bony features.

If anything, the figure resembled a walking skeleton with thin skin stretched tautly over a sharp, prominent bone structure. Dressed in dark clothing, the tall man folded himself against the corner. The first thing that went through Micah’s mind was the outmost certainty that this was not Yama, but rather the other Syphon who’d recently consumed Dushyanta—the very same one Micah had summoned from slumber several weeks ago, the very same one who had followed him to all corners of the kingdom to consume his blood.

The Syphon opened his mouth.

A rattling, hair-rising exhalation reached out to Micah with greedy fingers. “Poor little _reaper_ ,” he crooned softly. “The worst is yet to come.”

He flickered out of existence and a glass shattered on the floor.

Micah looked to Kai, observing his huddled form and his pale features. Kai’s arm outstretched over the chair, his fingers open and lax over the shattered glass. His single eye stared blankly into space, the whites around his pupil exaggerated with fear. Small tremors raced up and down his form and he hunched into himself, trying to hide them from the team.

“I—I apologize,” he said faintly. Red stained his cheeks. “I suppose I’m more tired than I had anticipated”

Micah stood up. “I suppose that’s our cue that we’ve overstayed our welcome.”

He busied himself with picking up the broken glass, waving off Viktor and Haken when they persisted a servant could do it for him.

“You guys go on. We’ll meet up again shortly.”

They seemed reluctant to leave. Only when Cain, the last to whisper well wishes to Kai, departed, did Micah stand from his crouched position. He awkwardly made eye contact with Kai as he placed the broken shards onto the coffee table next to the nearly empty bottle of whiskey and the empty trays of food.

“Get some rest,” he murmured.

As he made to leave, a hand curled around his wrist, strong and steady.

“Egan,” Kai started with a hint of indecision. “Micah.”

Micah stared at the closed door, feeling his heart sink into his stomach upon hearing the child-like tenor in Kai’s tone. “I’ll stay,” he vowed quietly. “Until you’ve fallen asleep.”

He repositioned himself in the comfortable armchair facing the fire.

Reaching for the bottle of whiskey, he poured himself a few more fingers.

“You felt it, too?”

Micah settled himself back against the heavy cushion upon Kai’s question and stared stoically into the flames. With the team, with the stories, with the fond memories, and the booze, it was hard the dwell in the recent occurrences with Yama and the gods. As such, he felt his good spirits shrivel and die, bringing with it the startling realization how pretentious his efforts were tonight.

How fake.

How flimsy.

Once again, cold reality returned with suffocating lucidity. A sense of hopelessness, fear, and uncertainty prickled persistently at the back of his mind, coiling deep within his bones and preventing him from truly relaxing. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to perceive their immediate threats. Moreover, he did not know who to trust and whom he could turn to.

“I saw it,” he confessed quietly, taking a long sip from the whiskey.

Kai lifted his legs and curled more comfortably against the settee. He grabbed the throw blanket and used it to cover his limbs, clearly appearing as cold as Micah. His expression was drawn severely, as if he didn’t know what to say to properly express the severity of his feelings. Instead of trying, Kai simply leaned his head against the couch and closed his eye. “When you leave, Egan, don’t turn off the lights.”

Micah propped his legs upon the low table and made a noise of understanding.

He didn’t leave that night.

He drowned himself in whiskey until he passed out, realizing that the Syphon he’d summoned had always acted on the cautionary side of an ally. If the entity claimed there was more to come, then there would be more to come.

Micah was ready.

At least he liked to tell himself as much.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge, HUGE thank you to those of you who reviewed throughout Part 2. I mean… you really **DO NOT** realize how much your words of encouragement meant to me. How much it *will* mean to me going forward. Especially now, going forward!!!
> 
> That being said… What is in store for Part 3? It will be a bit heavier, a bit darker than Part 2. It will have a lot of Ember POVs (flashbacks), more Calder, more politics (with smarter—dare I say—friendlier nobles), a focus on gender equalization, some outer region redevelopment, more of Ezra struggling with his princely duties (and struggling with his god of death status), there will be some Agni-revelations as well as a coronation and some birthday celebrations. As well as some Ladon interaction. Finally. I know.
> 
> There really is a lot to cover. Many characters to grab hold of and give them their 15 minutes of fame. Some new ones to introduce as well. Which is why I can say that Immunity will have *at least* 5 parts. As many of you may already know, I do not have Part 3 written (with the exception of 6 chapters) as I had with Part 1 and 2 (which is why you all received weekly/biweekly updates!). 
> 
> **LINKS:**
> 
> Updates with this story can be found in my AO3 profile.  
> You can also email me with any questions at: darkcyanstar@yahoo.com  
> My Tumblr will have updates [HERE](https://solemnitydreamer.tumblr.com/)
> 
>    
> Also, the Agni POV I deleted in Chapter 30 is [HERE](https://epic-solemnity.livejournal.com/) on my LIVEJOURNAL. 
> 
> ♥


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